Gone
by unilocular
Summary: A routine investigation turns dangerous when one of the team goes missing. Case-fic. Team-fic, slight focus on Tony and McGee. Rated T for violence/language. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I don't own it. I also made no money off this story, it's purely entertainment only. **

**Title :** _Gone_**  
**

**Summary :** _A seemingly normal case takes a dangerous turn when one of the team goes missing. Casefile.  
_

**Author's Note :** _Please be aware this story contains some minor language and does contain mentions of rape. Nothing graphic or explicit, but if it makes you uncomfortable please pass on this story. There is also minor violence. This story is PG - 13. I'll place warnings on chapters._

_This story is complete, I'm in the process of editing prior to posting so updates will be Tuesdays and Fridays. There are 20 chapters in all, plus an epilogue.  
_

___This story has been quite a ride. _  


_Please enjoy. I welcome any and all criticism, please keep it constructive.  
_

_Let's get on with it._

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**October 16, 2006 - 7:04am - Rock Creek Park, Washington, DC -**

USMC Private First Class Jonas "Bubba" White inhaled deeply, allowing the cool October air burn his lungs as he led the early morning run. Since returning from active duty in Iraq last month, he was slowly returning to the normalcy of civilian life. Unfortunately, the transition was not an easy one. Most mornings, he awoke in a cold sweat, the sounds of bombs still ringing in his ears. He exhaled slowly, allowing the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the trail to soothe his over-active mind.

"Yo, Bubba! Slow down man, we can't keep up!" The breathless shout broke through White's calm and returned him to reality. Had he actually forgotten that he met two of his closest friends this morning at Rock Creek Park for their daily jog?

"Then y'all better run faster!" he yelled over his shoulder, easily increasing his speed.

Suddenly, White's foot caught on something and he tripped, falling hard on moist earth. Rolling over, he looked back to where he stumbled and saw a bare leg sticking out of the tree line onto the trail. He pulled himself to his feet and limped cautiously towards the edge of the trail. "Are y'all okay?" he called apprehensively as he approached.

"Yeah, - we - are. Didn't - think - you - were - stoppin' - this time, man." The taller of the two other Marines wheezed as they came up to White. The shorter just leaned forward, attempting to catch his breath.

"Bubba, what's going on?" The shorter man asked when White did not answer them. "Bubba?" He moved past White to see what rendered the usually talkative Marine speechless. Right by the trail, a young woman lay on her back with her blonde hair fanned beneath her. Blue eyes staring unseeing at the sky, her clothes and skin were viciously ripped open. He let out an involuntary gasp, followed by an almost inaudible "Oh my G-d, I know her..."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:26am - NCIS Headquarters, Bullpen**-

The elevator doors dinged open and Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo winced at the sudden noise. Hand on his head, he plodded out of the tiny box and made the daily pilgrimage to his desk. This Monday morning, he certainly did not feel very special. In fact, he wasn't sure that he even wanted to be alive. He made his way slowly, each step requiring more effort than the last. A part of him wondered if his Ferragamos had always been this heavy on his feet. Perhaps, it was time for new shoes. But then, when wasn't it?

With a sigh of relief, he slid into his chair and settled in behind his desk. Checking his watch, it had only taken him 15 seconds for his cross-office trek even though it felt more like 15 minutes. He surveyed the bullpen, realizing all the empty desks meant he was the first one into the office this morning. "Thank G-d," he said quietly and let his forehead rest on his desk.

"Sleeping at the office again, Tony?" a female voice sounded from in front of him. The sound sliced through his ears and made him wish Gibbs actually understood the meaning of sick days. Mossad liaison officer Ziva David stood in front of him with her usual unreadable grin. As she went to her desk to set up for the day, Tony couldn't help but check out the way her butt filled out her uniform of cargo pants. He might wish he was dying, but he sure as hell wasn't dead. Ziva looked over her shoulder and Tony immediately looked at the ceiling. He wouldn't be long for this world, if she caught him.

"Why don't you use those bad-ass Ninja skills for a good cause...like creeping around on McGee?" Tony quipped, half-heartedly. Had the lights always been so bright in the office? Maybe he should have stayed in bed today.

"Are you okay, Tony? You look like death burnt over," Ziva queried, sounding concerned. "Have you been sick lately?"

"You mean death warmed over, Zee-vah! No, I'm fine. I just - ." The elevator door dinged and Tony craned his neck over the bullpen cubicle to view the newest arrival. Special Agent Timothy McGee was headed over to the bullpen, paper grocery bag in his arms. Jumping to his feet, Tony hurried over to the junior agent. "Did you get the stuff I asked for McGoo?"

The junior field agent stopped as DiNozzo wrested the bag from his arms. "Yeah, Tony. Though I'm not sure what you need Tabasco sauce, seltzer water, pepper and a lemon for. I had to go to two different markets to find the Tabasco sauce. I was almost - ."

Tony felt a sudden rush of panic. "The egg," he moaned, one hand on his head, "please tell me you brought the egg..."

McGee reached into the pocket of his trench coat and produced a large brown egg. "One egg. The birds are cage-free and organic...though how are you going to cook it?" Looking confused, the junior agent glanced around the office as if looking for a stove.

The senior field agent snatched the egg from McGee's hand and retreated to his desk. Pawing through the bag, Tony appeared to be taking an inventory. With a shrug towards Ziva, McGee pulled off his coat and began booting up his computers. "Morning Ziva!" he called. She shot him a distracted wave and watched as DiNozzo began lining up his ingredients on his desk.

DiNozzo pulled a cup from one of his drawers and cracked the egg in it. He then began to meticulously add the other ingredients one by one while taking an exaggerated pause to smell. "Tony. You are making some kind of drink, yes?" Ziva asked.

Tony held up his hand to quiet her. "Don't distract me! One wrong move and it will be ruined!"

McGee shot Ziva a mischievous grin. "Oh, I get it! You're making that family hangover recipe...what were you up to last night?"

"It's not a 'family hangover recipe.' It's the 'DiNozzo Defibrillator', meant to cure all hangovers with a single sip! The recipe has been passed down through the DiNozzo family for years...as to what I was doing last night...it was better than your dirtiest dreams, McMonk." McGee raised an eyebrow to Ziva as Tony stood up, animatedly reminiscing about the night before. "Half of the Brazilian Olympic volleyball team was in DC on a goodwill mission. I met them in a bar and who knew Brazilian beer could pack that kind of punch? It was like _Beach Party, _but only here in DC."

"I do not understand what goodwill a volleyball team could bring," Ziva stated. "They stand on the beach in bikinis and hit a ball. There is not real purpose to what they do."

McGee shrugged and Tony grinned through his headache. "Ohhh...Zee-vah. There are some things about this great country of ours that you will never understand. One of them is that six wonderful women from the great country of Bbrrrazeel can bring all sorts of goodwill. Especially since these girls were," DiNozzo looked over at McGee and held his hands in front of his chest, "dddddefintely dddddelightful young - ."

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and he felt a familiar fear rise in the pit of his stomach. He sniffed, smelling coffee. Strong, black coffee that smelled like it had sat on a burner too long and probably held the consistency of sludge. He looked towards his teammates who had abandoned him in the midst of his story. Ziva was writing on a piece of paper under her desk lamp, looking like she was actively working on a report while McGee typed away on his computer, punching in letters like there was no tomorrow. "He's right behind me, isn't he?" DiNozzo asked quietly. He braced himself and a sharp thwack to the back of his head rattled his brain. DiNozzo composed himself. "Thanks Boss."

"Sounds like you had a fun night, DiNozzo." Gibbs said as he strode into the bullpen to his desk. He clutched his normal coffee in his hand.

"Well, now that you mention it - ." Gibbs' glare stopped Tony's story on his lips. He dropped back into his seat and punched the power button to his computer on. While he waited for the machine to boot up, he turned back to his concoction.

As soon as Gibbs got to his desk, his phone chirped to life. "Gibbs." Tony regarded his pause, as his generally cranky features darkened further. "On our way." He flipped the phone shut. "Grab your gear. We've got a dead Marine in Rock Creek Park."

The team burst to life. McGee and Ziva instantly reaching for their guns and badges, securing them on their belts and pulling their backpacks from next to their desks. They were halfway to the elevator before DiNozzo even processed the order. A case. Right now, a body. The sudden flurry of activity caused the pounding in his brain to return even louder than before. The only thing he wanted to do was stare at the computer screen, drink his Defibrillator and space out until he felt up to living again. _Damn it..._

"Boss...?" Tony protested, gesturing toward his ingredient spread and feeling sick again. "Can I have a few minutes?"

Freezing midstep, Gibbs glared at Tony and returned to his desk. Opening the top drawer, he rummaged for a few seconds until he found a small bottle. As he headed toward the elevator, he dropped the unlabeled bottle of small white pills on Tony's desk. "Boss?"

Gibbs marched into the elevator, where Ziva stood holding the door open. "Take two DiNozzo, then MOVE YOUR ASS!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer : I still own nothing. If it's recognizable, it's not mine. **

**General warnings, there is a bit of description of a body in the story. Nothing worse than we see in the show.**

**Author's note :** _I want to thank everyone who has read this story, signed up for alerts, set to favorites and reviewed. I'm trying to respond to all reviews personally and I'm still getting used to the site. _

_ It means a lot that people actually are reading this. _

_Happy Friday. _

_Let's get on with it. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

Twisting open the bottle, DiNozzo popped two pills into his mouth. He looked around for liquid to wash them down, only seeing his improperly mixed hangover fix. If it wasn't crafted just right, it was simply a disgusting melange of Tabasco and raw egg. He sighed and dry-swallowed them, flinching as they burnt his esophagus on their way down. He gathered his gear and sprinted to the elevator._ Damn... they had left him behind_. Cursing under his breath, he sprinted down the steps to the garage.

When he finally caught up to McGee and Ziva, they were already sitting in the truck. In the driver's seat, Tim grinned triumphantly at Ziva as she buckled into the passenger seat. "I did not know there was an object that could outrank scissors in rock, paper, scissors. Scissors are a weapon, they should not lose to anything," she said as Tony approached.

"You see, Ziva," McGee explained. "Rocks crush scissors...Nice of you to join us, DiNozzo. Hey! What are you doing?" He looked surprised as Tony opened the driver's side door.

"Out, Probie. I'm driving, you're in the back," Tony ordered.

"But - ."

"Senior field agent trumps rock. Now, out. Unless you can convince the lady to ride in the back."

McGee looked helpless at Ziva, who simply shrugged and shook her head. With an exasperated sight and eye roll, the junior agent climbed out and made his way to the back of the truck. DiNozzo climbed into the driver's seat and settled in. "Tony, I thought you were flung over. Perhaps you should allow me to drive."

The door to the back of the truck slammed shut, followed by a loud crash. "I'm okay!" McGee called out.

The senior field agent and Mossad officer ignored their teammate. "It's hung over Zee-vah. _Which I am not_. I'd rather get to the crime scene in one piece as opposed to a body bag." She shot him a dirty look as she pulled out her cellphone and turned it over in her hand. Somehow the action made something as innocuous as a communication tool appear menacing. Tony started up the truck and put it in gear.

"Hang on Probie!" he called as he pulled out of the garage. Another crash sounded from the back.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_  
**  
8:12am - Rock Creek Park, Washington, DC - **

"Whoa, Palmer and Ducky beat us here this morning!"

Pulling the NCIS truck behind the autopsy van, DiNozzo couldn't help but feel surprised. When the team was last called to the park for a body, Palmer took a wrong turn and managed to take Ducky on a cross-county tour that ended at the Maryland state line.

Ziva climbed out, slamming the passenger door and Tony winced as the headache returned for a split second. Climbing out of the truck's cabin, he wondered when the pills Gibbs gave him were supposed to kick in.

He joined the Mossad liason at the back of the truck and watched his junior field agent climb out. DiNozzo studied the younger man for a few seconds. He was extremely green and several pounds away from being in shape. But what he lacked physically and in common investigative sense, he made up for in raw intellect and ambition. McGee was pulling on the regulation NCIS jacket and hat. "Tony, are you even listening to me?"

"Of course," Tony muttered as he pulled on his jacket. "You were saying that you need to organize everything back here since it's been a while, right?" He grabbed the evidence bag and marched off towards a running trail that led deeper into the woods. Behind him, the door slammed and he heard the footsteps of his teammates following him. "Where's the body, Probie?"

McGee fumbled with his phone. "According to the location Palmer sent me, about a quarter mile up the trail off Beach Road."

"I can't believe the autopsy gremlin is telling _us _where we're supposed to be," DiNozzo grumbled to himself. So far the only good part of today was that his headache was starting to fade. Maybe whatever Gibbs gave him _were _working. As the team rounded the bend in the trail, an autopsy gurney sat in the middle of it. "This must be the right place."

"Glad you could make it, DiNozzo!" Gibbs called from the treeline. Tony followed the voice and took in the crime scene. Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard, NCIS' elderly Medical Examiner, was crouched over the body of young blonde woman. Her eyes stared towards the sky, open but unseeing. What was left of her pants and shirt were savagely ripped open, along with her flesh leaving muscle exposed. DiNozzo couldn't help but wonder where her shoes were.

Before the team had time to ready their equipment, Gibbs was already barking orders. "Ziva, bag and tag. DiNozzo, photos. McGee, find me some shoes!" The team quickly dispersed. Tony grabbed the camera and followed Gibbs just off the trail to where the body lay. "What have we got, Duck?" he asked the aging medical examiner.

Tony started taking photos of the corpse in its prone position, including the way her arms crossed over her chest like she was praying and the spotless soles of her feet. Careful to avoid Gibbs and Ducky, DiNozzo was captured each stab visible wound in the young woman's chest. Some appeared more shallow than others and the senior field agent had to wonder what brought the victim here.

Pressing the liver probe into the body's abdomen, Dr. Mallard checked his watch and closed his eyes as he made some mental calculations. "What we have here, Jethro, is a young woman who died between ten pm last night and two am this morning. Stab wounds are the most likely cause of death." He pointed to the abdominal and chest wounds. "But I won't know more until I get her home and run some more tests. Now where did Mr. Palmer get off to?"

"How do we know she's a Marine, boss?" DiNozzo asked.

"Someone from her unit tripped over her this morning."

Suddenly, a scream sounded down the trail and DiNozzo sprang into action. Pulling his gun from its holster, he ran down the trail behind Gibbs. As the agents rounded the bend, autopsy assistant Jimmy Palmer came into full view. He was sitting on the ground by the side of the trail. The team leader approached him, looking around intently. Letting out a nervous laugh, Jimmy grinned at Gibbs sheepishly "I just slipped on something..." Gibbs rolled his eyes, holstered his gun and stalked back down the path towards the body.

"Good job Palmer," Tony said flatly, pulling the assistant to his feet.

"So it was nothing then?" Both Tony and Palmer visibly jumped as Ziva appeared by Tony's arm. Shaking his head, Tony motioned for Palmer to return to the crime scene. "Jimmy, wait!" Ziva called out and pointed at the ground. "Someone appears to have chucked their cookies."

Jimmy looked at Tony with raised eyebrows. "It's tossed their cookies...but it works. Palmer, you're covered in evidence..."

Revulsion covered the autopsy assistant's face as he began to dry-heave. DiNozzo stepped away, snapped a picture of the existing pile of "evidence" and walked quickly in the direction Gibbs headed. "Don't forget to bag and tag, Ziva!"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_  
**  
3:28pm - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC - **

By the time the team returned back to NCIS headquarters, it was well into the afternoon. The hours had passed quickly while they searched for a murder weapon, fibers, anything to relate to the body of the young Marine. She was safely in the morgue with Dr. Mallard and his assistant, who should be readying for the autopsy.

As soon as they had returned, Tony had sent Ziva to drop off the evidence box with the gothic forensic powerhouse, Abby Scuito. Tony could almost picture her leaping around her lab, like a kid on Christmas morning, as she dug through her newest assignment. Odds were she would make her way through the crime scene photos, fibers, molds of tire tracks and the "evidence" Palmer fell in, while regaling Ziva with some inane story about her bowling nuns or beer-swigging, gun toting uncle Jim-Bob or Billy-Bob for whatever. The senior agent accepted it would be a while before he'd see the Israeli glide back into the bullpen.

Sitting at his desk, DiNozzo decided to take a break from his work. He began to watch his junior agent intently as the younger man typed and clicked furiously on his desktop. Stopping suddenly, McGee glared back. "Tony, stop staring at me! I'm trying to work." He gestured toward his monitor.

"As the senior field agent, I need to make sure all of my subordinates are performing to the best of their abilities. You understand, McGoo." The other man sighed and turned back to his computer. Grinning to himself, Tony reached into the pizza box that sat on the edge of his desk. On the way back to the office, the three had taken a vote on lunch. Ziva had lost so pepperoni pizza had accompanied them back to the bullpen. Tony held the piece under his nose and inhaled deeply. His mouth watered...

"Ya think you earned that yet, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled as he strode into the bullpen. "Got any info on our dead Marine?"

Tony dropped the pizza on the top of the box. As he opened his mouth to speak, McGee interrupted. "Uhhh...Boss?" Gibbs pointed to the plasma and McGee made a few click of his mouse before standing, remote in hand. A standard military picture of their young victim appeared. Clad in her dress uniform, the woman's unsmiling face stared back at them. "Leah Wilkowski. Twenty-six. Enlisted at the age of 22 after ROTC at Waverly State. Graduated with honors with a degree in political science. Saw two tours in Iraq. Got home from the most recent one in July. Never got promoted past the rank of Corporal." McGee made a few more click of his mouse and a picture of the smiling woman appeared in desert camos with three other male Marines by a Humvee and a picture of her smiling with a beach background, shoulder length blonde hair framing her face.

Gibbs approached Tony's desk, picked up the pizza box and held it in front of McGee. "_You _earned lunch." Looking back to DiNozzo expectantly, he held the box tight.

"Boss," Tony offered. "I don't think pizza goes with coffee..." If looks could kill, DiNozzo knew that'd be long gone. Right now, he wasn't wishing for death. The headache had cleared, thanks to Gibbs' magic pills. They were still stashed in his desk and he only hoped that their disappearance would not be noted since he seemed to feel the side effects of drinking seemed more often than before. Standing, Tony smoothed his suit jacket and watched McGee scarf _his_piece of pizza.

"I searched, but couldn't manage to find an address or phone number for Leah. So I called the three Marines who found the body since the report from Metro stated that one of them knew her. Privates First Class Jonas White and Rohan Maher did not know her, though White is pretty sure he threw up somewhere near the body. The third, Lance Corporal Richard Reiben, said they served together. They were in the same unit. Though I still find it funny that Richard Reiben is a lance corporal and not a private first class..." McGee shot him a quizzical look while he chewed his pizza and Gibbs' eyes narrowed again. "Just Ed Burns' character in _Saving Private Ryan._...anyway, he said they ran into each other a few weeks ago and she was staying with a friend, Emma Watson, until she got her own place. I think it's great, I'd love to live with Hermoine!" Tony felt satisfied with only a half-chuckle from McGee.

"Go interview the roommate," Gibbs ordered as he handed Tony the pizza box. "Take McGee with you."

"On it, Boss." Tony and McGee said in unison. Both agents retrieved their gear and headed towards the elevator. Gibbs watched Tony walk out, inhaling his slice on the way with McGee in tow. As the doors closed, he let out a sigh and took a swig of his coffee. The day was waning and he knew his team still had a lot of work to do. His stomach growled, suddenly reminding him of his need for sustenance. When was the last time he had eaten? Perhaps breakfast eight or nine hours ago?

Standing, he retrieved the pizza box from Tony's desk and pulled out a piece. He took a large bite and washed it down with coffee. His senior agent was right about a lot of things, although Gibbs would never freely admit that even with a gun to his head, but he was dead wrong about this. Pizza paired great with coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer :** Original disclaimer still stands, I still don't own anything. Unless you count seasons 1 - 5 on DVD.

**Author's Note : **_I'd like to thank everyone again who alerted, saved and are following this story. Special thanks to __**Meilea2010**__and _**_PaisleyGibbs13 _**_for the kind reviews. I appreciate you all who take the time to read. _

_Just a general note on why I don't update more often then twice a week. I spent the entire summer working on this story and edited it myself. Since I'm not working with a beta, I need to re-read the story a few times right before I post with a critical eye to catch any mistakes/continuity errors. It takes me a __**long **__time to edit and working full-time takes up most of my editing time. In a perfect world, I would post a chapter everyday. _

_I truly hope this story is worth the wait. _

_Also, please be aware that I used real locations for the story. I'm not from DC or the surrounding area, so all travel times are a product of my own imagination. _

_Also, based on dates this story takes place somewhere in Season 4._

_Thanks again, everyone. _

_Let's get on with it. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:18pm - Wilkowski's apartment building, Chevy Chase, MD.**

The sudden stop of the Dodge Charger roused Tony from his nap on the drive over to Leah Wilkowski's apartment. "We're here," McGee announced as he killed the engine.

Checking his watch, Tony's mouth dropped open. "Probie, how did you manage to take longer to get almost an hour to get to Chevy Chase from the Navy Yard?" He climbed out of the car and followed the junior agent towards the door.

"It's rush hour, Tony, people drive slower."

"_You _drive slower."

"What was that?"

They approached an old Victorian that had been converted into apartments. The old woodwork on the wraparound painted white, contrasted nicely against the dark blue of the house. As the agents stepped onto the porch, Tony could feel the boards sag under his weight. Despite how beautiful the house's exterior, he wondered about its current state of disrepair. "She's in unit five." He pulled on the glass door that led into a lobby, but it thudded against the frame. _Locked. _Pulling harder a second time, he jimmied the door down at the same time. As it slipped open, McGee raised his eyebrows and DiNozzo held a finger to his lips.

They entered into a dark lobby, lit only by a small Tiffany-style lamp on a long buffet that sat to the right. A door with a gold number 1 on it was directly to the right and a set of steps sat in front of them. The only other light trickled in from the door behind them and a small window on the landing above the stairs. "I guess unit five is on a higher level," McGee stated, matter-of-factly.

"Good job, Probie! Let's put that MIT education to use!" DiNozzo exclaimed, climbing the stairs. The second floor revealed only a darker alcove with three doors labeled - 2, 3, and 4. Chuckling, Tony could almost hear McGee saying unit five was on a higher level again. Even in the dark, he knew the junior agent was rolling his eyes.

The third floor was darker still, with the only light coming from a small single bulb that hung from the ceiling. At some point, this must have been the attic. Tony pulled out his badge and knocked loudly on the door. "Who is it?" a soft female voice called out.

"NCIS. We need to speak with you." Tony announced.

The heavy door swung open and a petite, elven looking girl opened the door. Her wide eyes narrowed irritatedly. "You're not FedEx."

Letting out a bitter sigh, Tony bit his tongue. "No, we're not. _NCIS_ _Special Agent_ Anthony DiNozzo." He held his badge out for her to examine.

"Look, I'm busy. Could you come - ?" Her eyes flicked over Tony's shoulder and she finally noticed the junior agent standing behind him. Angry features melted into a wide smile as she extended an introductory hand, past DiNozzo, to McGee. "Oh, hi! I'm Emma Watson, who are you?"

For a split second, Tony thought the world might implode. _Had he just been dissed for McGee?_

"NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee, ma'am, and this is my partner NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Could we come in? We need to talk."

"Please call me Emma...and what's this about?" She stepped out of the way and gestured for them to cross the threshold. As McGee led the way into the apartment, Tony realized how much he hated this part of the job.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:31pm** - **Wilkowski's apartment building, Chevy Chase, MD.**

Everytime DiNozzo tried to sneak a look at his watch, the victim's roommate seemed to come up from McGee's shoulder for air. They had been in the apartment in Chevy Chase for what felt like an eternity. He would go out on a limb to say that Emma Watson had not taken the news well. Between the sobs, he thought he caught that Emma and Leah happened to be childhood best friends.

Currently, she sat on her couch still crying hysterically into McGee's shoulder. As tears soaked through his suit jacket, he held his arm around her and attempted to comfort her. Despite sitting in what functioned as the kitchen but was really part of the living room, Tony could not make out a word that McGee murmured to the young woman.

Tony swallowed hard. Crying women were not his forte. Hysterical woman? He did not know where to start. His partner seemed to be handling the situation well, but they did not have the luxury of time to help her through her loss. Somewhere a murderer walked free and that pissed Gibbs off. Apprehending the dirtbag would appease Gibbs, thereby improving their lives.

DiNozzo motioned to McGee to hurry up and the younger man held his hand up. Gently nudging Emma off his shoulder, he looked at her sympathetically. "I understand how hard this is for you, but Agent DiNozzo and I need to ask you some questions. Leah's killer is still out there. Can we try to talk about it?"

The victim's roommate nodded and grabbed for McGee's tie. As she loudly blew her nose, he visibly cringed. Tony bit back a laugh and passed her a tissue from his pocket. "Had Leah been staying with you since she got back from Iraq?" Emma nodded, beginning to dissolve into tears. "Be strong." She nodded again. "How was she? Any changes in her behavior lately?"

Speaking slowly, Emma answered. "Yeah. This last time she got back from duty. She was different, not good different or bad different. Just different. Like she was turned off. She used to love to do all sorts of crazy things, like jumping out of planes and racing dirtbikes. One time she learned how to breathe fire...but when she got back this last time, she didn't want to do anything. She didn't leave the apartment for days on end. About a month ago, she seemed to be getting better. Not quite like she used to be, but like she was remembering how to be happy."

"Did she tell you anything happened to her on the last tour?" DiNozzo took the lead since McGee still looked green over his tie.

"No, we never talked about her time in the Marines. I know she saw combat, but she didn't want to talk about and I didn't want to know. She was Leah. The one who sat with me through the night my mom left. The one who cleaned out my old apartment when I broke up with my fiance. Not some badass Marine who drove Humvees and shot people. She was just Leah..." Emma dissolved into tears again. Suddenly, she stopped, balling her fists. "Do you know who did this to her?"

Tony shook his head. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Yesterday morning when I left for work. She was asleep," Emma gestured down to the couch. "I didn't get too worried when she didn't come back last night. She'd meet a guy from time to time and head back in the morning. One weekend, she didn't come back until Tuesday night. But she hasn't really done that since she got home from Iraq..."

"Any idea what she was doing in Rock Creek Park?"

Emma shrugged, her face tear stained and confused. "She hated the park, said it reminded her too much of Quantico. I love to run over there, but she never did. She preferred the neighborhoods around here."

McGee shifted towards the edge of the couch and grabbed a pillow from the arm. Offering it to Emma, he slid off the sofa. "Did Leah bring anything with her?"

Clutching the pillow to her, Emma nodded and pointed to a Marine rucksack in the corner between the couch and the wall. "Everything she needed was in the bag. She hasn't been home to Missouri since she joined the Marines...oh G-d, I have to call her parents..."

Removing a business card from his pocket, DiNozzo crossed the room and placed a comforting hand on Emma's shoulder. "Our boss already took care of it. Is it okay if we take her bag so our forensic scientist can go through her things?" The young woman nodded. "If you think of anything else, please call me or Special Agent McGee."

Emma began to sob again and McGee looked upset himself. "We will find the person who did this. You have my word." Tony felt the shock at his younger agent's words before he felt the anger. Looking at the victim's roommate, he saw the hope in her eyes. He glared at McGee, grabbed the rucksack and stormed out of the room.

He was halfway to the car when he heard McGee yelling behind him. "Tony...Tony..._DiNozzo. _What is wrong with you?"

"Keys, McGee." They landed in his hands. Unlocking the car, he started dressing down the younger agent before he had even slid into the driver's seat. "Me, McGee? What's wrong with _me? _What's wrong with you? You never make a promise that you cannot keep. Now if we don't catch this guy, you'll have to tell her that the perp who killed her best friend will stay a free man."

McGee stared grimly out of the window as Tony drove back to NCIS headquarters. Outside the car, dusk had melted into evening. Eventually, McGee broke the tense silence. "Tony, telling that woman her friend was dead has to be the hardest thing I've ever done. I thought that everything would just be okay if I said that."

DiNozzo set his jaw and kept his eyes on the road ahead. Trying not to remember the promise me made as a rookie, his mind betrayed him and replayed the the words he said to a young, pregnant widow and her toddler son. He felt them on his tongue. The exact words McGee had said to Emma Watson. He tried not to remember the calls from the widow that came frequently, but dwindled into nothingness. He tried not to remember the looks from his coworkers when the widow came to his old precinct to scream at him for promising to find her husband's killer and delivering nothing. It was the first time in his career he knew he was a failure. Shortly after, he transferred from Peoria to Philadelphia.

"You never make a promise that you cannot keep, Tim," Tony repeated. "Please don't ask me how I know..."

Thankfully, McGee respected his partner far too much to do so.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer : **Still don't own anything. If you recognize it, I don't own it.

**Author's Note : **_Just want to thank everyone who's read, favorited, alerted and are following this story. The continued support means a lot and I truly hope that you're enjoying this as much as I did writing it. Special thanks to __**PaisleyGibbs, DS2010, Deluded Visions **__and a__** Guest**__for leaving reviews! _

_This fic is mostly team, but it focuses a touch more on Tony and McGee than the others. Everyone on the team (including Jimmy) are still featured heavily. There is also an original character who comes in about halfway through, so it shakes up the team dynamic a bit. I've updated the story info to reflect that._

_I'm currently finishing up a Tony and McGee angsty one shot, so be on the lookout in the next week or two. _

_Also, I'm putting out a shameless plug for the song "Take a Walk" by Passion Pit. If you're into rock, it's awesome and I'd say give it a listen! _

_Let's get on with it. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:52pm - Garage - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

It was nearly eight by the time the Dodge Charger pulled into the NCIS garage. The ride back to headquarters had been quiet. As McGee dozed in the passenger seat, Tony fought to keep ghosts of cases past from flooding his memory. After they deposited the car, they headed towards the elevator with Tony carrying Leah Wilkowski's rucksack. "I'm going to go drop this off with Abby, you coming?"

McGee shook his head. "I owe her a Caf-Pow and if I show up empty-handed this time of night, I'll never hear the end of it."

The two parted ways at the elevator when it hit the basement-lab level first. Tony gave McGee a wave as he exited and followed the bone-rattling racket that was coming from down the hall. When the hell did chainsaws and nailguns become music anyway? By the time he reached the lab, the senior field agent found himself praying for ruptured ear drums just so the noise would stop. He burst into the lab. "Abby...Abby...ABBY!" Where was she anyway?

Something grabbed his leg and Tony thought he heard himself yell, but he wasn't sure. The music drowned out all sense of self he had left. Reaching instinctively to his hip for his weapon, he paused when a black-pigtailed mass popped up from under the lab bench. Killing the stereo with the remote in her hand, the forensic scientist grinned her red-stained smile. "What's up, Tony?"

His senses were just returning to him and he was pretty sure that he found the statement ludicrous. "Uh..Abby. What were you doing?"

"I did some reading on meditation and how it can really help you find your inner self. There are these monks in Tibet that Sister Rosita was talking about that are meditating in small, quiet spaces like under my lab bench. They say that lowering your center of gravity to Earth can really help your path to Enlightenment...ohhh! What'd you bring me?" She pushed Tony around and roughly grabbed the rucksack off his arm. "Did this belong to Leah Wilkowski?"

"Yeah. Pretty much everything she owned is in there. Hopefully, it will give us some idea of what happened to her."

"Well, I hit a wall earlier until Gibbs brought me this." She held up an empty Caf-Pow cup. "I'm still processing the blood samples that Jimmy brought me. I processed her clothes, which were kind of strange don't you think?" Tony started to talk, but Abby kept going. "She was wearing nice jeans and a tank top, but it was really cold last night. Like really cold. Where's her jacket? Then she's not wearing any shoes. Where are her shoes? It's kind of cold for no shoes too. How could she walk around and not get any dirt on her feet from the trail? It's not like she walked on water or something...But..."

"We don't know Abs..."

"Anyway," the goth's gravelly voice rushed out of her, like it was under great pressure. _Word vomit_, Tony decided. "I ran the clothes and Ducky checked the body. No prints. But I did get a spot of blood that didn't belong to Leah. There wasn't enough for me to get a DNA match on, but I could get a type. You're looking for a type A person. She's AB negative."

"Thanks Abs." Tony started to leave the lab.

"_Wait! I'm not done yet_! Ducky also found some weird chemical on her body. On her thigh. Major mass spec is running as fast as he can so we can figure out what it is. She was also stabbed with a blade about 6 inches long, starting out at a point and widening towards the back. Though that's how deep her stab wounds are, the actual weapon might be bigger then that. I'm running a program to determine what it was."

"Thanks again, Abs..."

_"Wait! Wait, wait! Tony!"_

Tony froze and looked back at Abby, expectantly. "Got anything else?"

"Have you seen McGee?"

"Probably headed upstairs to wash the snot out of his new tie."

"When you see him, tell him he still owes me a Caf-Pow." Tony nodded and before he was even out of the lab, the grinding returned and rattled his bones until he was safely in the sound-proof elevator. On the way up, part of him wondered how the noise hadn't woken Ducky's dead yet...

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:58pm - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

Gibbs sat at his desk, watching his agents work under the light of their desk lamps. The main NCIS office lights switched over from normal to night power at 9pm and he wasn't sure how many hours ago that had occurred. Propped up on one hand and facing away, Gibbs was certain Tony was asleep due to the even breaths that emanated from his side of the bullpen. McGee's typing and clicks had become less frequent and possessed less purpose. Even Ziva had dark circles appearing under her eyes as she reviewed bank statements that the junior agent had printed off hours earlier. Gibbs was pissed. That Marine lay on a slab on the morgue for more then twelve hours and they still had _nothing. _

Well, they had slightly more then nothing. The team was piecing together a portrait of a young, troubled girl who had a passion for life up until she returned from her last tour in August. Gibbs had spent the afternoon on the phone with Dan and Mary Wilkowski, out in Kirkwood, Missouri. Every time he made the call to a family who was not from the area, he allowed himself to go numb. Reciting words of sympathy and the stock NCIS phrases about how the teams were working tirelessly to catch the killer. But this conversation was different. In the two hours he spent on the phone with the family, he had learned how Leah had run from home shortly after high school graduation and her parents did not know where she was. He had spent the greater part of the afternoon reminiscing with her parents and filling them in on her college education and impressive combat record with the Marines. The rawness of his own loss returned when he had cut the call off after a quiet "we would have been proud of her, regardless of where she ended up" came from her father.

He had sat, staring at his yellow, cracked pages of a crudely drawn family by an eight year old's hand that hung behind his desk. What was worse? Losing a child that you'd never know or finding out you had lost a child who grew up to be more then you thought they could be? Cases were never personal to Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but right now he wanted to catch the bastard that robbed this family of a reunion that could have come.

He let out a frustrated huff, grabbed his coffee cup and walked to the elevator. There was still someone he could count on plugging away in a caffeinated haze during the dead of night. The elevator dinged on Abby's lab level and he headed towards her lair. No music emanated from the area and he wondered if she were catching what Ziva usually called "bat naps."

He walked through the open door and into the darkened lab. Some kind of program that looked like it was scrolling through weapons ran on Abby's computer screens and it looked like some kind of contraption in the corner was doing a countdown. The damn technology didn't mean anything to Gibbs, he just needed someone to tell him what all the crap these machine spewed out meant so he could use it to hunt down his Marine's killer. He took a swig of his coffee, the bitter, cold liquid stinging his throat on the way down. How else could he power through his case?

Flicking his eyes through the lab, he finally saw a form laid out in what Abby had dubbed "inner sanctum," a portion of her lab away from the buzzing and bleeping of machines. Gibbs headed into the sacred portion, passing the lab's freezers. Two Caf-Pows sat at the ready for as soon as the goth rolled off her futon and headed back to work. Grinning at her predictability, Gibbs bent down and gave her a gentle shake. "Whaddya got, Abs?"

Eyes wide, Abby shot up. "Gibbs...you can't come down here yet. My babies are still working." She rubbed her eyes and handed Gibbs her stuffed hippo.

Gibbs knelt beside her. "I just wanted to check if you found anything new."

"Not yet, Gibbs. I can't give you what I don't have. I'm running everything. My simulation for the weapon is scanning every known weapon based on size and blade composition to compare to the wound that she had. Major mass spec is processing the chemical on Leah Wilkowski's thigh. My babies will let me know when they're ready. I can't rush them..."

Gibbs nodded. "Anything you got from going through her rucksack?"

Abby shook her head, possibly to reinforce to him that she knew nothing or to shake the cobwebs of sleep from her brain. "Her computer is password protected, so I'll crack that first thing in the morning. Everything else appears normal for a 26 year old girl. Only thing that appears to be missing are a dressy pair of heels because every girl has a pair and her wallet, purse and cell phone." She glanced at a small alarm clock that set beside her head, the numbers 11:13 glowing at her in red. "I'm going to be up in a couple of hours to get into that computer, so the team will have something to go on tomorrow morning. Everyone should tell me what I need around 3 or so."

"Okay, Abs. Get some sleep." Abby settled down in the futon that sat on the floor and Gibbs pulled the black blanket with a skeleton on it up to her chin. Part of him was intrigued as to where she found all of her ghastly accessories and another part of him never wanted to know. Perhaps Walmart. Before he could hand her the hippo she always snuggled, she was breathing quietly. Listening to her raspy breaths, he smiled, in spite of himself, and planted a light kiss on her cheek. "We'll get it tomorrow."

Leaving the lab, he returned to the bullpen with coffee in hand still. The team looked even worse for wear. Tony had given up any pretense for work and was sleeping, uncomfortably, sprawled out face down on his desk. Gibbs thought Ziva had vanished until he saw her boots sticking out from the side of her desk. Only an army person would find these floors comfortable. The only one still working was McGee, hunched over with his face illuminated by his computer screen. He hardly perked up when Gibbs had returned. "Boss..." he started.

"Go home." Gibbs ordered, as he went back to his desk.

DiNozzo's head popped up. "Boss?"

"Go home, get some sleep. I need you all back here at 0700."

McGee and DiNozzo began to frantically back their things before Gibbs had a chance to change his mind. Only Ziva attempted to challenge him. "Gibbs, are you certain that you do not need our help?" No one could miss the angry glares that the male agents shot their female counterpart.

"Home, all of you. Be here at 0700." DiNozzo was first to make a run for the elevator with McGee a close second. Ziva lingered for a few minutes, slowly packing her things. Hovering, almost begging Gibbs to order her to stay. He waited until the doors closed and she was gone, before he grabbed the emergency roll of paper towels he kept under his desk.

He headed down to autopsy. With any luck, he'd catch a couple hours on one of Ducky's slabs before Abby's alarm went off at 3.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer : **Still don't own anything.

**Author's Note : **_Big thanks again to everyone who has read, followed and favorited this story. I'm amazed by the response I've had so far. I really didn't think anyone would read it. Extra big thanks to __**PaisleyGibbs, ytteb, **__and guest - __**Carol **__and __**Person46.**__ Seeing your thoughts as I progress really helps!  
_

_Before we go any further, I should clarify that this is my first fan fiction. Ever. Scary, I know. I must also confess that I am also not a writer. I only play one on the internet. Hope you'll still be sticking with me. _

_I'm going out of town for the weekend this Friday right after work, so I'll be posting the Friday update on Thursday. I __**might **__get another update up on Sunday so there's not a long wait for the next installment, but I make no promises. _

_September 11th today. Hard to believe it's been 12 years. Never forget. _

_Anyways. _

_Let's get on with it. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Tuesday, October 16, 2006 - 2:54am - Autopsy - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

Cold was the first thing Special Agent Gibbs felt, followed quickly by a tightness in his back. He yawned and stretched aggressively. Maybe he was getting too old to catch a few hours of sleep on an autopsy slab. The room was dark, save for the light filtering in through the glass doors several yards away. Checking his watch, Gibbs only confirmed that his internal clock was still perfectly set and he was able to wake himself as needed. He sure as hell didn't need an alarm clock like the one Tony gave him for Christmas last year. Maybe he'd be lucky and pick McGee in the office pollyanna this year. It was a particularly nice clock and a damn shame that it still sat unopened in his bedroom closet.

Stretching again, he tried to relieve the knot in his lower back. Time was wasting and here he was musing about re-gifting. Abby should be up soon. Grabbing his coffee cup off the floor, he headed to the elevator and up to the forensic lab. He checked his watch again, 2:56 and she was now quietly snoring in inner sanctum. Fine, he'd look over her things himself. Standing over Abby's lab table, he poured over the contents of the dead Marine's rucksack. Everything she owned in the world was on this table, so there _must _be information there.

He picked up a laptop with an apple on it. Some kind of computer, definitely not his thing. He'd let Abby get into that later. Mostly clothes, all of which were in a pile with a paper in front of it reading "CLEAN" in Abby's scrawl with an angry face. Nothing in there, he guessed. Off to the side sat some make-up, a few electronic chargers and a digital camera. He picked up the camera and sat on Abby's lab stool, flipping through the images. A picture of the dead Marine with an attractive young man kissing her cheek popped up as Gibbs scrolled through. There were several recent images of the young man, smiling at tourist locations around DC. He came up on an image of the young man in dress whites. _He was_ _Navy. _Gibbs made a mental check to have Abby run facial recognition on the picture. He checked his watch again, 3:02 and Abby was still snoring away.

More pictures. Some of a young woman with short, cropped dark hair. Must have been the roommate that McGee and DiNozzo mentioned. Some photos of a desert, likely Iraq; it dredged up some of his memories of his tours in Desert Storm. He kept scrolling through the images. _Just how the hell many pictures were there?_ Some of her unit, many of her against a Humvee or in the mess hall. They went on for what felt like forever, when suddenly he hit a picture that looked _different_. The Marine was in full desert camo, but something looked different about her. That smile was different. He flipped back and forth between the picture and previous picture of her in the mess. Compared to the camo picture, her smile was taut, forced. Her eyes, dead. Something had happened in the desert...

Gibbs was distracted by something cackling deep in inner sanctum. He made to get up, but stopped when he remembered Abby had hotwired a ghoulish, laughing Halloween skeleton to function as an alarm clock. A fart sounded through the lab and Abby emerged, blinking the sleep from her eyes. "Gibbs...I still don't - ."

"I know," he cut her off. "I do." He passed her the camera. "Something happened between when those two pictures were taken. Find out." As Gibbs started to leave, one of the contraptions began beeping obnoxiously.

"My weapon simulation finally got a match." She made a few clicks of her mouse and sounded confused. "I don't understand, Amelia's never wrong..."

"What's it say, Abs?"

"Maybe this just confirms what I knew all along. I've heard there were ghosts in Rock Creek Park. I'm not sure why there would be ones from the Civil War there. But I always knew - ."

"Abs?"

"From my simulation, the only weapon that could have made this wound pattern is a Civil War era bayonet..."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:31am - Bullpen** **- NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

Back at his desk, Gibbs settled in under his desk lamp. Abby had scrawled the dates from the digital camera on a post-it. There was a two day window, in which something had occurred to change that young Marine's life. Gibbs took a swig of coffee from the refill he picked up at the NCIS cafeteria upstairs and cringed. The vile liquid was _sweetened, _but beggars could not be choosers. He took another sip and gagged again.

Checking the Marine's service records for the time in question, nothing important seemed to pop out at him. The two days in question were in the middle of their tour and she had not seen any active duty on those days. In fact, the day after the second picture was taken she had checked into the medical tent for several days. He placed a call to the NCIS branch in Iraq and made a special request to speak with the on-call doctor from Leah's tent stay. Contact would be made in a few hours, so he scheduled out MTAC. Hopefully, the call would come in after 0700 when McGee would be in.

His phone chirped to life and he answered, "Gibbs."

"Gibbs! I got something!" Abby's voice erupted through the phone and he pulled it away from his ear.

"On my way."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:34am - NCIS Forensics Lab - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

Taking another detour to the cafeteria to pick up a Caf-Pow, Gibbs decided Abby might want to try the newest flavor of caffeinated beverage. The most recent promotion was a blueberry flavor that was electric blue and smelled like a toxic cross between the fruit and roadkill. Apparently, there was a drink more disgusting in the cafeteria then its' coffee.

Both liquids sloshed in their containers as he made his way to the lab. Checking his watch, it was early and the music was already pumping through the hallway. _Was that a gunshot in the song?_

"Whaddya got, Abs?" he asked as he strode into the lab.

Even though her back was towards him, he could hear her sniff. "Don't tell me that's the new Pow-berry with extra caffeine!" His look confirmed her excitement and she reached out, eyes wide. Pulling it closer to himself, he motioned to the buzzing machine with his head. She sniffed and salivated towards the cup like an addict looking for a score. "I got a hit on facial recognition on Leah's camera. The young guy she's with is Petty Officer Joseph Andrew Hanrahan." She made a few clicks and an active duty Navy report popped up with a picture of a young, blonde man. "He's 25. No record. No priors. Single. Both parents are deceased. He lives in his family home here in DC. He's on shore leave for a few months from Norfolk. I finally got into her computer and there's no mention of him anywhere in her information. Just really basic web searches and some old school e-files. Nothing exciting."

Abby gave another sniff and eyed the container in Gibbs' hand. Sighing, he held it out to her and she had her lips around the straw, pulling in a deep sip before she even had her hand around the cup. Something suddenly started bleeping in the corner. Gibbs pulled away the drink and looked at her expectantly. She stepped over to the machine and made a few clicks of the mouse. Some sort of chemical panel popped up in front of her. "Hm...that's weird."

"What's weird, Abs?"

"This is that yellow substance on her thigh, where her pants were ripped. It's made of lineolic acid, palmitic acid, stearic acid, oleic acid, and some trace chemicals. That's weird, Gibbs. Really weird. Why would she have this on her thigh?" Abby peered at him as though he had all the answers.

"What's the compound, Abs?"

"Linseed oil. It's used as a binding agent for oil paints, a wood finisher, a binder for linoleum, among other things. I'm just not sure how it got or why it's on her thigh."

"I'll tell you as soon as I figure it out," Gibbs stated, already in the hallway.

"Giiiiibbbss," Abby howled. He poked his head back in. "You're not calling the team back in right now, are you?"

When he went to check his watch, he realized he was still holding the stomach-turning blue caffeine thing. He handed it to her and she drank deeply, savoring the liquid. Just seeing it pass through the straw grossed him out and he wondered what kind of taste buds were able to handle the Caf-Death. _They must have adapted._He checked his watch, 5:06 and shrugged. "I guess not, it's only two hours before they need to be back in anyway."

"Good," Abby laughed, teeth stained blue. "I hate when Tony doesn't get his beauty sleep..."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:14 am - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

After leaving Abby's lab, Gibbs had returned to the bullpen to put together some notes for his upcoming day's searches. Then he had headed off to autopsy to catch a few hours on one of Ducky's slabs again. His internal alarm went off early, pulling him off the cold metal at 0615, as opposed to 0700 like he had hoped. Sighing, he accepted the knot in his lower back and gave up trying to pull it out. It didn't seem to be going anywhere, much like DiNozzo. Though he figured it would probably be slightly less useful.

Heading up to the bullpen, he carried the coffee cup from the cafeteria. Knowing how disgusting the liquid was warm, he didn't dare to sip it cold for fear that it was worse. Ziva was already at her desk, tapping lightly on her keyboard. Their eyes met as he entered the bullpen and they did not exchange pleasantries. When put together, the two were all business. "Gibbs." She greeted.

"Ziva." He stalked over to his desk where a coffee and bag of some sort of danish sat. He gave a half-nod of thanks towards her desk and Ziva knew that was the best she would get out of him.

"I hope you do not mind that I started a search. I saw the notes on your desk and thought we cannot lose any more time."

Gibbs took a swig of his coffee. "And...?"

"Well, I was able to find an address for Joseph Hanrahan's family home here in DC. I also spoke with Abby and she gave me a list of Marines in Leah Wilkowski's unit. I am cross-referencing them with people who had contact with her during that two day window." Ziva turned back to her computer and Gibbs took a swig of his coffee. As Ziva found military records, she put them up on the plasma and they discussed what could have transpired over the two days in question.

Gibbs was frustrated at the lack of progress they were making. The overhead lights had switched over to day-time levels, early daylight streamed in through the windows across the office and his coffee was cold. The day was starting and they had only slightly more then they had last night. A ding signaled an arrival of someone from the elevator and Tony DiNozzo ambled into the bullpen, talking on his cell phone. Without noticing Gibbs staring him down, he relaxed into his desk chair. Suddenly flinching, he caught the team leader's glare and whispered into the phone."Sorry I had to leave this morning, Charlotte. I'll call you later. Maybe we - . Charmaine - ? Oh, Elaine. Well, that is a beautiful name. I'll - ."

"Woman troubles, Tony?" Ziva asked him, her attention diverted from the task at hand. This annoyed Gibbs more then anything else in the world.

"Only when I can't remember their names..." Tony flashed his playboy grin and started to unpack his gear.

"That seems to be occurring more often, yes? Perhaps it is because you are getting older." Ziva's eyes widened when she realized her mistake. She covered her hand with her mouth and glanced over at Gibbs, who was messing around with something on his computer.

"Maybe he didn't hear you due to his age?" Tony muttered, toward Ziva. He launched a paper ball onto her desk from across the bullpen.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, an older, portly woman in a red suit was dark hair appeared over the top of stairs. "Agent Gibbs?" she called. "There's a live feed for you in MTAC. Dr. Caden is on satellite feed from Iraq."

"On my way." Moving to the stairs, he paused at Ziva's desk and leaned over. "I heard what you said." He gave her a light tap on the back of the head before he left the bullpen. "I want you two to recreate those missing days before I get back. I want to know where she was, who she was with and what the hell happened."

He was halfway up the stairs when the elevator door dinged open and McGee wandered in, bleary eyed and looking slightly lost. "McGee!" Gibbs barked on the landing. "With me. MTAC." The junior field agent's eyes widened and his mouth started to move as though he about to formulate a sentence. _"Now!"_ Not even stopping to deposit his belongings and ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, he darted after the team leader.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer : Still don't own anything. **

**Warnings : Mentions of rape, no descriptions. Also, Gibbs has a dirty mind. **

**Author's Note** **:** _Thanks again to all the readers, followers and favoriters. I'm really impressed by the sheer number of people who keep returning to read my story. Extra special thanks to _**_Megth, ytteb, charmed4eva112, PaisleyGibbs,_**_and __**Precious Pup. **__I appreciate your opinions and the time you take to let me know. _

_I don't know about you guys, but I'm bummed it's not Friday yet. _

_Again, I will try, try, try my hardest to get an extra update in on Sunday. If not, this story will be updated on Tuesday. My one-shot should (hopefully) be up on Monday. _

_Times are all approximate and really don't have any importance in the overall story. _

_As far as not updating more often, I'm still reworking through editing the story. It's a bit of a monster. _

_Well. _

_Let's get on with it. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:06am - MTAC** **- NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

Special Agent Timothy McGee had no idea what was going on. As he sat in MTAC, he felt like he did at 16 on his first day of theoretical calculus at MIT. He knew full well that he didn't have the kahonas to stop the conversation and ask Gibbs to catch him up to speed. He had barely pulled off his brown trench coat and clipped the microphone onto his ear when the large screen came to life. A young woman, dressed in camos with a white coat filled over them, stood with her arms crossed. McGee couldn't help but wonder if she were a doctor.

Gibbs stood in the center of MTAC wearing jeans, a yellow polo and a threadbare blazer that had seen better days. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. How are you today, doctor?"

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Special Agent Gibbs. Dr. Alicia Caden. Not too great over here in the desert. How are things in the states?"

"Not bad. I apologize for pulling you away from your patients, doctor. But we need your help."

The doctor gave an easy laugh. McGee wondered where she was from; her accent almost sounded Minnesotan. "Unfortunately, I'm a little too used to that these days."

"It's about a patient you had about six months ago. Marine by the name of Leah Wilkowski." Gibbs reached into his file folder and pulled out a picture of the young woman in her official duty photo. "Spent several days in medical. Do you remember?"

Caden's light eyes darkened. " 'course, I remember her. Beautiful girl. But I can't really discuss the matter of her visit...violates patient confidentiality."

"She's dead, doctor. Murdered. I doubt she gives a damn about confidentiality anymore."

McGee watched as the doctor visibly frowned and appeared troubled. How much had he missed since he went home for less then eight hours of rest? "She came to the medical tent, covered in bruises and stated she had been raped several days earlier. Flat out refused to press charges or even tell me who did it. I let her hide out in medical for a few days to give her some time to work through it. I begged her to let me report the incident. She said if I did, she'd have my license. She seemed terrified."

"Thanks, doctor. We'll be in touch if we have any more questions."

"Please catch the monster. I haven't felt safe on this base since that woman came through medical." Somewhere in the distance an explosion could be heard and the other Marines in the tent all turned their heads to look. "_Some things are even more terrifying then how we live over here_."

"I'll do what I can," Gibbs said. "Semper fi, doctor." Then he made a motion to kill the video feed. As he cut the live feed to Iraq, McGee silently watched his boss. The older man's brain seemed to be working overtime. Tim wondered what the young Marine had gotten herself into and if it was possible that the man responsible for her rape had followed her home._ Probably, even killed her..._

"C'mon, McGee." Gibbs shouted as he left the room. The younger agent gathered his things and followed.

"Boss." McGee's voice sounded stupid to his own ears and he bristled. Not breaking stride, Gibbs motioned with his hand over his shoulder. "Why wouldn't Leah Wilkowski name her attacker in Iraq? She's on a base, surrounded with thousands of other Marines, MPs and people who could help her. They were supposed to look out for her welfare. Why wouldn't she confide in them?"

Gibbs stopped and looked his younger agent in the eyes. McGee could see the mistrust and rage that filled his boss' blue eyes. It was disconcerting. "Think, McGee. _Think." _Never breaking eye contact, he pushed on McGee's forehead with his right pointer finger. "Maybe one of the people who were supposed to be protecting her wasn't doing their job." Gibbs strode off and the junior agent felt a chill dance down his spine. He swallowed hard and took a minute to compose himself before following Gibbs back down to the bullpen.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:48am - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

He couldn't believe his ears. He gave them a job. _No, an order and they had failed._ Crushing his empty coffee cup, he hurled it into the trash can next to his desk and glared at his senior agent.

"Boss." DiNozzo started. "We can't recreate Leah Wilkowski's path completely. We're not in Iraq. It was six _months _ago. We can't patch together all her movements around the base..." Tony looked helplessly towards the Mossad liason across the bullpen.

Making a few clicks of her mouse, she rose. "Gibbs, I know we failed your direct order. We completed it to the best of our ability. The first picture was taken on April twenty first and she checked into medical on the twenty fourth. That gives us seventy hours that we need to account for. From what we could piece together, she spent those days in specialized tactical training with these men." Another click of the mouse and seven pictures popped up on to the plasma.

Crossing his arms, Gibbs studied the Marine's faces. Six of the seven were in their mid-20's and one who Gibbs assumed to be the squad leader was in his late 30's. "Is that?" Gibbs growled, pointing at a young blonde man's smiling face. Playing with the mouse, Ziva gave a few more clicks and the screen went dead. Gibbs knew he had seen that face before, he just needed to see it enlarged to make sure. _Getting old was certainly no picnic_. "Well?"

"C'mon, McFixer," said Tony, as he waved in the youngest agent who was standing at the edge of the bullpen transfixed by the case progression. Gibbs knew the young man was lost, but he'd deal with that later. Right now, he just need to see those pictures again.

Several seconds later, the pictures popped back up on the screen and Gibbs took the faces in again. "That one," he pointed to the blonde man. "Enlarge it. Give me a name."

McGee looked from Tony to Ziva before jumping in. "Lance Corporal Richard Reiben." Pawing through the case file, Gibbs missed the look McGee shot at Tony as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"Boss. He was in the group that found the body," Tony stated.

Gibbs looked over his glasses at his senior field agent. "DiNozzo, go pick up Reiben and put him in interrogation. Take Ziva with you." Tony and Ziva started to gather their gear. "McGee and I are going to interview the boyfriend. Someone has to know what happened over there."

Striding out of the bullpen, Gibbs clipped his holster to his belt. By the time he and McGee got to the elevator, Tony and Ziva were long gone. He punched the down button and he could almost swear he saw his youngest agent flinch in the metallic shine of the doors. What happened to the young Marine in the desert? Why hadn't she wanted her doctor to know about it? His mind was turning until a voice brought him back to reality. "Uh...boss?"

"Whaddya want, McGee?" he asked, spinning around. The petite, redheaded Director Jenny Shepard stood by McGee's shoulder. Anger creased her usually pretty face, causing her cheeks to turn pink. Willing himself not to remember the activities in Paris that caused also caused color changes in her cheeks, their eyes met. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing. "Jenny..."

The creases in her forehead deepened. Maybe they were thinking different things..."Sonja informed me that you scheduled MTAC without my authorization."

"Got a lead. Thought you might want to sleep..." He grinned and almost laughed when he saw her blush.

"Special Agent Gibbs, I am the _director_of NCIS. If you want authorization to use MTAC, then you sure as hell better wake me up. " Jenny growled, her voice dangerous. "My office. Now."

"No, 'Madame Director,'" Gibbs roared. "With me." The elevator doors dinged fortuitously. Pulling her roughly into the car, he turned to see McGee staring, eyes wide, at them both. "Pick that jaw off the floor, McGee, and go interview the boyfriend!" As soon as the elevator dropped down a floor, he flipped the emergency switch and the car went dark.

"You better start treating me with some respect around here, Jethro," Jenny started, before launching into her tirade.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:02am - Garage - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

As he signed out the Dodge Charger, Timothy McGee could hardly believe his luck. The boss finally trusted him enough to send him for his first interview alone. Well, Gibbs was currently too distracted by continuing his long-standing pissing match with the director. Nonetheless, he could very well have asked Tim to wait until he was done and then they could have gone together to the interview. But he didn't and to McGee, that counted for something.

The youngest agent took a few minutes to collect his thoughts and jot a few questions in his notepad. Tony and Gibbs made questioning a witness look so easy. Almost by instinct, they could ask something and know exactly what the follow-up should be. McGee only hoped that with time he would be able to pick up their skills. He had been with the team for quite some time now and he felt that he had not progressed much. Even Ziva was far better at interrogation than him. Though he didn't want to know how she learned her techniques. He knew his technological skills far surpassed anyone else on the team, but that had not been why he attended FLETC and ultimately joined NCIS. He wanted the mental challenge of doing something that he was not good at.

Shaking his head, he cleared his mind and fired up the engine. He checked his watch and couldn't help but wonder how they'd get into the elevator after Gibbs and the Director killed each other. A ghost of a smile rose to his lips and he drove the car out of the garage.

Construction slowed the drive to Petty Officer Joseph Hanrahan's house. McGee didn't mind at all. Even though the late fall day was brisk, the sun was bright and he was enjoying the view of the leaves' color changing. He didn't have the luxury of doing this very often. _Maybe his sister was right, he did work too much._

He finally pulled up to the street where Hanrahan's family home stood. Parking on the street, he crossed over the front lawn to the off-white rancher. The outline of a garden existed in front of the porch, but it grew thick with weeds. The grass looked as though it had not been cut in ages. Apparently, Hanrahan was too busy to care for his inheritance. McGee stepped up onto the porch and felt uneasy as the wood floor groaned under his feet.

Raising his hand to knock, he was shocked to find the door slightly open. Pulling his Sig Sauer from his left hip, he slunk into the house. Thankfully, the lay-out was simple. A long hallway that was clear, led to a kitchen and a living room to the right led to the same kitchen. McGee backpedaled into the living room, taking in the mess and squalor the Navyman lived in. _This guy managed to find a girlfriend?! _

In the far corner of the living room, a fluorescent light shone on a dozen or so strangely shaped plants. They were short with large leaves that looked like some deranged palm. Even though he didn't know, McGee wondered if they might be maturing pot plants. It's not like he'd ever seen one before.

Clearing the living room, he moved on into the kitchen. The footfalls from his dress shoes sounded quietly on the tile floor. Every surface on the counters was filled with dirty dishes and rotting leftovers. The stench alone made him gag. Moving away from the sink overflowing with dirty dishes, he crept into the bedroom portion of the house. There were four doors around a dark hallway.

He cleared a small bathroom on the right. Peering into an empty bedroom, he moved on quickly. He snuck into a disorderly second bedroom, checking the closet. _Nothing_. One more room to check and he'd have to call the boss without any lead.

_Clear. _He had a sudden urge to call out to no one in particular. He moved into the last bedroom. Apparently, the dirt tornado that hit the rest of the house spared this small piece of real estate. The room was immaculate, with a California King bed sitting dead center in the room. McGee checked the closet, found it empty, and crossed the room to check under the bed.

As he reached down to lift up the bed skirt, he felt cold metal touch the back of his head. "_Drop the gun._"


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer : Still own nothing, but seasons 1 - 5 on DVD. **

**Warnings : Mentions of rape, no descriptions. **

**Author's Note :**_ Before I even get into it, a huge thanks again to the newest round of readers, followers, and favoriters. I'm still overwhelmed by the response my story has gotten so far. Extra special thanks to __**diana teo, charmed4eva112, ytteb, Precious Pup, PaisleyGibbs, Lisa, **__and a __**Guest **__for taking the time to leave me a review. I always love to hear what people think as we're getting through the story. _

_I'm updating on a Sunday so there's not a __**long **__wait for the next chapter. Updates will return to regular Tuesdays/Fridays for the foreseeable future. I recently got into another story for NCIS and the amount of research it's taking is pretty surprising. Also, that one-shot should be up this week. Fingers crossed for tomorrow. _

_Also, if anyone reading ever notices any inaccuracies or inconsistencies, __**please **__drop me a PM so I can correct the information. _

_Weekend trip was fun, but there's not place like home. _

_Anyway. _

_Let's get on with it. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:56 am - Hanrahan Residence, Chevy Chase, MD - **

The gun was on the floor before McGee even knew he had released it. Standing to his full height, he raised his hands and awaited for more instructions. The guy with the gun pointed at you was always the boss, despite what Gibbs would tell him later. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he feared his heart would pound out of his chest. The junior agent's mind raced. Where had the guy been? Under the bed in the spare bedroom? No, the bed had no frame so the mattress was on the floor. Behind the sofa? No normal sized adult could have fit. The bathroom? He hadn't checked behind the shower curtain, in the tub.

_Damn._

"I said, _'turn around_.' Are you deaf or something?" McGee complied and recognized the man with the gun immediately. PO Joseph Hanrahan commanded the room, his attractive features screwed in anger. The seaman wore pajamas and McGee found the relaxed nature of his clothing ironic with the tension of the room.

"Petty Officer Hanrahan. I need you to lower your weapon," the NCIS agent stated, fear thinly hidden in his voice.

"Just who the _hell _are _you?!_"

"NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee." For some reason, a lesson from FLETC about being taken hostage flashed in his mind. Acid burned the back of his throat. He wasn't sure because of the word 'hostage' or the only thing he could recall was _establish a first name basis. _"Tim."

"Joey," the seaman offered, his face softening slightly. Maybe, maybe this ordeal was over. Feeling relieved, McGee went to reach into his jacket for his ID. "_Keep them where I can see them!_" Perhaps not.

Several moments passed and McGee could see Hanrahan processing the situation. The seaman spoke first, his voice strident. "So why are you here? Is it about the plants? I don't sell them, I swear. They're for personal use!"

The junior agent inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. He could still feel his pulse in his ears and his head ached. "Plants? What plants?" The other man shot him an incredulous look. _Well, it was worth a shot. "_Joey, I need you to lower your weapon. I'm not here about the pot plants and I don't know what else you're talking about."

"Then why are you here?" Something on the floor distracted Hanrahan's attention.

Realizing they were at a standstill, McGee hoped that answering the question would help resolve the situation. "I'm here about Leah Wilkowski. I really need you to lower the gun."

The seaman's dark blue eyes locked with the agent's. "Leah? What happened to Leah? Is she okay?"

"We found her murdered yesterday morning."

"Dead? She's _dead_?" Hanrahan repeated, his eyes filling with tears. His right arm fell limply to his side, still clutching the gun. "How can she be dead? I just saw her." With his attention focused on the floor, McGee saw an opportunity and crept forward, ready to take the weapon. "And you think I did it..." Joey murmured.

"No." McGee countered.

"_You think I did it_," Hanrahan stated, with more conviction.

"N-n-n-o...no...I just had a few questions. We needed to - ."

The barrel pointed directly in McGee's face silenced him. "Just _shut up. _I need to think..." Hanrahan growled, as he began to pace around the room.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**11:14am - Bullpen** **- NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC**

Sitting at his desk, Gibbs sipped his coffee. Somewhere, someplace, something felt off. The feeling wasn't ever anything concrete that he could put his finger on. He'd always called it his "gut" because that's what it felt like, a lurch that gave him a false start. He'd get up to go, move without thinking, only to realize that there was nothing happening. Later. Always later, he'd find out something actually had happened. Then he'd be left to deal with the fallout. Right now, he didn't understand this one. Something was going on...he wanted to grab his gun and leap into action. _But where should he go?_

Glancing behind him, he looked at the yellowing pages of his late daughter's art. The loss of her and his late wife was the first time that his gut had made itself known. A stomachache had awoken him in the desert and sent him stumbling to the medical tent. Inconclusive tests had been run and he was sent back to his bed, feeling crushed and alone. Only to find out the next day that his whole world was destroyed.

He was trying not to remember that night when DiNozzo and Ziva walked back into the bullpen. "He's in the conference room, boss," DiNozzo stated. Both peered at Gibbs, waiting for orders before taking their seats.

"Ziva, I need you to find out if any confederate rifles with a bayonet from the Civil War have been sold lately in the United States," Gibbs ordered. "Check for the last year."

"Is this also not Tony's area of expertise?" She grinned evilly at DiNozzo, who made a face at her.

"A confederate Civil War rifle?" Tony asked. "That's a pretty rare gun. Outfitted with a bayonet is even more rare. Most are in museums or collector's homes. Is Abby sure her machine isn't having issues again? Remember when she was trying to find out what was in CafPow and thought there was formaldehyde in it?"

"There _is _formaldehyde in it, DiNozzo." Gibbs left the bullpen and motioned for the senior agent to follow him. If he actually cared, the team leader would have questioned why Ziva had slipped Tony a ten. Unless it was relevant to this case, it didn't interest him.

When they reached the conference room, Gibbs paused as his gut lurched again. "Boss?" Ignoring DiNozzo, Gibbs entered the room to find USMC LCpl Richard Reiben seated at the table. He wore his full dress uniform.

As he entered, the Marine shot up and saluted him. He was stocky, broad-shouldered, and considerably shorter then Gibbs. "Have a seat, lance corporal."

"Yes, sir." Reiben's voice had a slight Southern drawl that slowed his speech. They both sat, while Tony leaned against the wall by the door a few feet away. "What is this about, sir?"

"Just wondering why you neglected to tell us you knew Leah Wilkowski."

"I did, sir. Informed Special Agent DiNozzo here that we were in the same unit."

Gibbs removed a picture from his file and put it on the table. The picture showed Wilkowski, Reiben and two other young men in camos smiling next to a Humvee. "Lance corporal, you drove a Humvee looking for IEDs and she sat in the seat next to you. That's more then_ in the 'same unit._' "

"We did reconnaissance missions together for a few months, sir. But something happened over there about six months or so in. One day she was normal, the next day totally whacked. She went from joking and fun and being normal to quiet, slow, different...she even ended up in the medical tent for a couple of days. We didn't want her in our Humvee anymore because I didn't think she could handle it. I don't know what they had her doing until we shipped home, sir."

"Someone raped her while you were in Iraq," Gibbs said, matter-of-factly. Taking a swig of his coffee, he watched as Reiben's jaw dropped. "What happened when you were in tactical training from April 21st to April 23rd?"

"Someone raped her, sir? If I had known, I would have kicked the bastard's ass. Sorry, sir." Reiben looked pensively out the window. "Come to think of it, sir. She got weird while we were in training. Fine the first day, gone the next...like a shell."

"You hear about any other rapes?" DiNozzo asked, propped up against the wall. His watchful face was hard and angry.

"Yes, sir. There was another girl in our unit who reported the attack to the MPs. Wouldn't say who did it, we just thought she just wanted to go home." Gibbs rose. As he started to leave, Reiben shot out of his seat. "If I had known sir, I would have done everything differently."

Gibbs just glared at the Marine as he strode out of the conference room, leaving a slack-jawed Reiben behind.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**12:02pm - Hanrahan's residence, Chevy Chase, MD**-

Not sure how long he had been gone from NCIS, McGee hazarded a glance at his wristwatch_. _He'd only been at the house for about an hour. All he had to do was hold out until Gibbs and the team realized he wasn't back from the interview. They would show up for him. At least, he hoped. Feeling tired, he slid down the wall and sat on the floor. "Hey!" Hanrahan protested.

McGee placed his hands on his head and drew his knees to his chest. "I'm not going anywhere. My legs are just tired." The man with the gun seemed satisfied, as he resumed pacing. The agent tried to formulate his own plan to get out of this situation alive. Right now, sitting and waiting seemed his best option. He was just thankful that he had managed to calm down. Having the gun pointed somewhere other then his face definitely helped...

Patience was never McGee's strongest virtue. Computers gave him results immediately and if they did not, he would knock down firewalls to get information. It was either results or action, never waiting. Before he could help himself, he let out a quiet sigh. Glancing at Hanrahan, the man was staring at the window, jaw set. The agent wasn't sure what, but something was about to happen.

"I need your help," the seaman said, turning his attention to McGee. "I _loved _Leah. I didn't kill her. I need you to help me prove it."

"I know...I know. Just let me call my boss. We can figure this out." Remembering another lesson from the _How to Survive Being Taken Hostage _lecture from FLETC, the agent tried to establish a team effort with his captor.

"No. I need _you _to help me. We need to go somewhere else."

"We can go to NCIS. My boss and I can help you there," McGee said quietly. Hanrahan nodded and motioned for him to get up. Deep down, the agent knew the seaman had no intention of meeting Gibbs. He wasn't sure what Joey's plan was, but McGee did not want to find out.

McGee rose and Hanrahan pointed to the hallway. As the agent started across the room, he gave the seaman a hard shove and sprinted towards the door. Hanrahan lashed out and sent the junior agent crashing to the floor. In the ensuing scuffle, the seaman quickly overpowered the agent by twisting his arm behind his back. A gun resting on McGee's cheek showed him that the Navyman meant business. "_You're coming with me_. I need you to help me prove I didn't kill Leah," Hanrahan repeated.

When McGee didn't respond, Hanrahan pulled him to his feet. Despite being a few inches shorter and several pounds lighter then the agent, the seaman was considerably stronger. Gun digging into his ribs, McGee was forced through the small hallway and back through the disgusting kitchen. Suddenly, he was nauseous. He wasn't sure if it was the smell of rotting food or the gun in his side. They exited through a back door and McGee half-climbed, half-fell down steps that led from a small deck to the driveway.

Wind tousled the agent's hair and he looked around, taking in the backyard. There was nothing in the back of the house or driveway except a silver Nissan. The street was quiet with no one out to witness the incident. Hanrahan roughly pushed McGee to the back of the car.

Before he could react, McGee was pulled into a chokehold. His lungs burned and he could hear his own gasps for air. Panic ripped through him as his vision filled with spots and his mind greyed. Was this really it? Would it end here, long before he had a chance to prove his worth as an agent? Somewhere far away, he heard Hanrahan say, "Just let go." Unable to hold on any longer, McGee did just that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer : Still own nothing. I'm just biding my time until season 10 starts! **

**Warnings:** _Mentions of rape. No descriptions. Spoilers for Twilight 2x24, but I think we all know about that by now.  
_

**Author's Note :** _As always, a huge thanks to everyone who is reading, favorited and following this story. Special thanks to __**MindFullofStories **__for archiving this story in a community. I just figured out that out this morning. Also, big thanks to __**charmed4eva112, diana teo, Precious Pup, ytteb, **__and __**Carol **__for taking the time to let me know what you think. I'm still amazed by the response this story has gotten thus far. _

_In case you missed it, my one-shot "Basement" made an appearance yesterday. So if you're interested, give it a read. Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed over there.  
_

_I seem to hit a wall with my most recent story. Never thought I'd see the dreaded writer's block. It's really frustrating. I know where I am and where I'm going, just not quite sure how to piece it all together.  
_

_With this story, this was probably one of the hardest chapters to write.  
_

_Well. _

_Let's get on with it. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**1:31pm - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

After finding a probationary agent to drive LCpl Reiben home, Tony DiNozzo headed back to the bullpen to follow up on the information the Marine had supplied. Moving back to his desk, he heard Ziva giving Gibbs a rundown of her recent searches. Only a few dozen confederate rifle sales were public. Due to state laws, any gun older then a century required no permit so it was probable that many more rifles lay in public hands and were traded privately.

Tony knew this was not good. A potentially promising lead turned out to be a dead end and it would only serve to further antagonize the perpetually aggravated team leader.

Half-listening to their continuing conversation, he ran a quick search of the MP reports for the base where Wilkowski served in Iraq. "Got anything yet, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, impatiently.

"Working on it boss. You know I don't have those fearless, flying fingers like the McKeyboard," DiNozzo quipped, fingers smashing the keys at slow intervals. "You know what those three f's are, Zee-vah?"

"An alliteration, Tony. I know basic English literary devices," she said, sounding annoyed.

Struggling through the last part, he could almost swear he heard Gibbs emit an actual growl. "Almost there...allllmooooost. A-ha. Got it." A few clicks and he put the report on the plasma. "Pvt. Elyse Reynolds, age 25, reported a rape on March 28th. Occurred at 2130 when the victim was heading back to the barracks. Stated that she didn't see her attacker, but according to the report she seemed spooked. Also, the MP believed she wasn't telling him everything."

"Where's the MP now?" Gibbs questioned.

Searching the database for the reporting MP's deployment status, Tony did not see Ziva start her own search on the newest victim's history. "MP Garrison was killed in action a few months ago."

Both Tony and Gibbs looked over to Ziva as she continued. "Reynolds joined the Marines in 2003 at age 22. She was generally discharged after her tour in Iraq. According to her file, she attempted suicide and refused treatment after she arrived home. Prior to March 28th, her performance reports are all positive. After the attack, her performance and mental health declined quickly."

"Where is she now?"

"Her last known residence was with her parents in Seattle. She also has a phone number listed. Perhaps she has not changed it yet," Ziva called off a phone number, which Gibbs recorded.

Tony turned back to his computer and readied himself to start the background checks on the men that Wilkowski had spent her tactical training with. Even though he and Ziva had split the list up, he was still irked. The job would take them all afternoon to complete and there were still a lot more for the team to look into. It would be much more efficient if McGee and Abby were here to run the checks while he and Ziva were out in the field. "Hey boss, where did McGee get off to?"

Gibbs glanced up from the autopsy report he was re-reading. "Interviewing the victim's boyfriend. Call him and tell him to get his ass back here."

DiNozzo dialed his junior agent's number and it went straight to voicemail. "Hey, Probie! It's Tony. Just in case you forgot, we still have work to do today!" Tony met Gibbs' eyes over his reading glasses. "His phone's off, boss."

"Trace it."

"Um...boss? That's kind of a McGeek-special."

Ignoring his senior field agent, Gibbs looked to Ziva who nodded. "Gibbs, his phone has been turned off." On reflex, Tony felt himself make a 'duh' face at her and Gibbs shot him a death-stare. She typed a few more words and finally stated. "It was switched off at 12:18pm." She relayed the location. "Is that not the house of the victim's boyfriend, Joseph Hanrahan?"

As he reached into his desk and removed his gun, Gibbs' face darkened. "McGee had better have a _damned _good reason for having his phone off. You two, with me." He nearly ran out of the bullpen with Ziva close behind.

DiNozzo pretended to dig through his desk as the rest of the team headed to the elevator. "Right behind you boss!" He hit redial on his phone, listening to McGee's voicemail play back. "Tim," he said sternly into the phone. "Rule number three. _Never be unreachable._ Turn your phone on and _call me back." _

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled from the elevator and Tony shot towards the open doors.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Unknown time, unknown place **-

A dull thump partially roused Special Agent Timothy McGee. Not quite sure where he'd fallen asleep, he felt cramped and seasick. Though as far as he could remember, he shouldn't be anywhere near the ocean. Somewhere close by, loud rock music played tricks on his confused brain. Another thump brought him around more and he was starting to feel as though something was wrong.

Attempting to sit up, McGee's head connected with something hard and he dropped back down, stunned. Hand on his pounding head, McGee tried to stretch out and felt his legs hit a solid metal wall. As he explored the space with his hands, panic started to set in. He had a barely a foot on either side of him. Only a few inches until he was able to touch the roof over his head. He could feel the metal behind the rough fabric.

His brain felt fuzzy and his mouth was horribly dry. The air in his space was hot and oppressive. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing through the nausea. Over the music, he heard a car horn sound.

His eyes widened in the dark as he realized he was carsick in Hanrahan's trunk.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**1:53pm - Hanrahan's street, Chevy Chase, MD**-

Tony gripped the handle of the passenger seat door as Gibbs took the turn onto Petty Officer Joseph Hanrahan's street on two wheels. The directions had shown the trip should take 30 minutes, but Gibbs managed to half that by driving through a construction roadblock, on the shoulder and doing highway speeds on quiet residential streets. There was also the shortcut through that one yard, but Tony's stomach didn't want to relive that one.

As Gibbs parked the car in front of Hanrahan's residence, Tony noticed an NCIS-issue Charger parked on the street a few houses away down. He would have brought attention to it, but he couldn't seem to find his voice. On shaky legs, he climbed out of the car and pointed a trembling finger in its direction. Ziva, appearing unscathed from the ride, jogged down the street to check out the vehicle. Out of the two, Tony would much rather Gibbs behind the wheel because riding with Ziva was akin to playing Russian roulette. But as she always said, she'd only wrecked one car since she moved to the states.

When she returned to the two men, she stated, "It is an NCIS car, Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded, unholstered his weapon and pointed at the house. "Go around back, DiNozzo. Ziva, with me."

Pulling his Sig from the holster on his hip, Tony headed up the driveway. Towards the backyard, he noticed a small pile of discarded objects. He approached them and glanced through them quickly. A crushed smartphone, an empty left-handed holster, black badge folder identical to his and watch lay on the ground in front of him. Ignoring the urge to call for Gibbs, he stalked to the back of the house and up the deck. He heard Gibbs and Ziva enter through the front and he went through the open back door. Instantly, the stench of rotting food made his eyes water. _How did Hanrahan live like this?_

"Clear," Ziva was calling out as she moved, otherwise, silently through the house.

Tony stood watch in the kitchen until Gibbs and Ziva entered. Gibbs was carrying an extra Sig in his hand and DiNozzo's heart skipped a beat as he noticed the look of concern on the boss' face. The face hadn't made an appearance since..._Kate_. Instantly, bile burned in the back of DiNozzo's throat.

"Boss? Is that - ?" Tony started and Gibbs cut him off with a curt nod. "His other stuff is in the driveway."

As they headed out the back to the driveway, Tony could feel the gravity of the situation setting in with every step. They walked in a tense silence with only the sound of their shoes scraping across the asphalt. Tony pointed to the pile of McGee's belongings and Gibbs pulled on latex gloves, examining the lot. He was digging for clues, knowing there was nothing to glean. "Ziva, pictures. DiNozzo, call in a BOLO."

"On it, boss," they said, in unison.

Tony pulled out his cell phone and called the agent in the cubicle over from his. As the phone rang, he watched Ziva sprint towards the Charger and Gibbs yelling at someone into his own cell. He looked back at the pile of his junior agent's belongings. "Well, Probie, at least you had a damned good reason..."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:45pm - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

Hours passed by in a matter of minutes to DiNozzo. He slid through the afternoon, numb and unable to focus. Evidence was collected, photos taken, everything bagged and tagged as per protocol. Notes documented everything for later reports pertaining to the missing agent. _Their _missing agent.

As soon as they returned to NCIS, Tony and Ziva hurried to the bullpen to start a new investigation for anything relevant to McGee's disappearance. Gibbs had vanished down to Abby's lab with the evidence. Since he had failed to return yet, Tony assumed she was not taking the situation well.

Typing slowly, Tony compiled a list of Hanrahan's known associates. Across from him, Ziva searched for properties or areas that Hanrahan had been familiar with. Somewhere he might be heading with their teammate. In silence, they attempted to work quickly.

Tony suddenly slammed his hands on his desk and shot up out of his chair. Ziva looked at him quizzically. "Gotta hit the head," he replied, gruffly. She shrugged as he stalked off towards the bathroom.

Entering the restroom, he pushed the door so hard that it slammed into the wall and dented the orange drywall. Anger coursing through him, he set his sights on the defenseless trashcan and kicked it over. Paper towels rained down around him. The door opened and Agent Chris Patrone, who worked with the team over the wall, started to enter. Tony glared at him, fists clenched and eyes wild. "Not a good time, Patrone," he growled.

The other man raised his arms. "I'll come back later. Always nice to see you, DiNozzo." He closed the door and Tony could picture him running down the hall for security.

The senior agent turned his attention back to the wall. Punching the paper towel dispenser, he let out a strangled cry as he felt pain spread from his hand up his arm. It returned him to the moment. He gripped the sink, knuckles on his right hand bleeding freely. Staring at himself in the mirror, he felt the stench of failure rising again from his pores. He knew McGee's disappearance wasn't his fault. But still the younger man was his junior agent and ultimately, his responsibility. _He hadn't been able to protect Kate, so why should McGee be any different?_

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The bathroom door opened again. "Still not a good time, Patrone."

"I am not Agent Patrone," Ziva stated. "This may not be a good time, but it will not get any better. Tony, do you need to speak?"

"It's talk, Zee-vah, and I don't think so. You shouldn't be in here anyway. It's a men's room." Half-heartedly, he flashed his trademark grin and began to wash his hands.

"It does not matter. It is just a room where people take care of business. Who can and cannot use it is only custom, not rules. You seem bothered by this case." They locked eyes in the mirror and Tony felt a flash of anger. Her usual detachment from major cases made her an asset to the team. Not once did she ever get emotionally involved in a case. But _damn_, this involved a member of their team. Someone they worked intimately with and earned/evaded the Gibbs wrath everyday. Even for Ziva, this seemed cold.

"Ziva, this is McGee. Not some random Marine. Not some random Navyman. Mc-Gee. That guy who has the desk across from Gibbs. The one who does all our computer stuff and who has our back. Do you remember him? He is _missing_, Ziva. Gone. Nada. Zip. Zilch. _Nothing. _He's gone and we didn't have his six. He could be _dead _and you don't give a damn!" By the end, Tony was yelling and he didn't care who heard him.

Ziva held Tony's eyes, her face unreadable. "If Hanrahan had planned to kill him, we would have found a body at the scene. Since there was no body, it is likely that McGee will remain alive for now. Likely, we can expect some request from Hanrahan for his return. It is when we receive the ultimatum that we must begin to worry."

Suddenly, Tony started to snicker. His giggles evolved into loud laughs that echoed off of the orange walls and he could feel Ziva staring at him questioningly. The look on her face made him crack up even more. He laughed until his sides hurt and tears began to stream down his face. "If that's your idea of a pep talk Ziva, you certainly suck at it," he grinned, rubbing the tears from his cheeks.

"It may seem that the case does not bother me, but it does. I am very, very fond of McGee, but I cannot allow my emotions to control me. If they control me, then I will be unable to help our teammate. A clear and focused mind will allow us to complete the task and that is the only thing that will bring McGee back alive. We must find our advantage before Hanrahan contacts NCIS with demands. Then we will have a time limit."

Inhaling deeply, Tony splashed some cold water on his face and pushed the doubt from his mind. He knew Ziva was right, but he didn't want to admit it. A part of him wanted to have another team take over the McGee's case, but he knew only his team could put forth the effort required to bring the agent home. _Failure was not an option._

Pulling paper towels out of the now-dented dispenser, he dried his face and dropped them into the pile on the floor. He started back to the bullpen, but paused as he passed Ziva. He glanced at her face and could have sworn he saw a tear trailing down it. Opting to ignore it, he turned their focus back to the case. "Better head up to the cafeteria and grab us some coffees. Going to be a long night." He headed out into the hallway and called back behind him. "Oh - and Ziva?"

Her head peered out of the men's room door. "Yes?"

"Thanks."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer : Still own nothing, except my original character. Though, I don't own his name or anything belonging to Marvel. **

**Warnings :** _Again, Gibbs has a dirty mind. _

**Author's Note :**_ Thanks again to everyone who's been reading, following and favoriting this story. As always, a huge thanks those who left reviews. I really appreciate it - **Eni01, PaisleyGibbs **(for 7 and 8!), **charmed4eva112, Precious Pup, Deluded Visions, diana teo, **and_ _**ytteb. **You guys are all awesome! __  
_

_My original character finally shows up in this chapter and serves as a TAD, so hopefully everyone likes him. There's also a surprise guest who makes an appearance; he literally showed up.  
_

_I'm going to try again to get another update this weekend and maybe get the story up a bit faster. Hoping it might help me get over my writer's block for the newest story.  
_

_Hope everyone is having a happy Friday.  
_

_Another music suggestion - Anna Sun's Tightrope.  
_

_Well, that's enough from me.  
_

_Let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:31pm - Bullpen** -** NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC - **

Gibbs watched as the end of the day exodus began. Agents in the surrounding cubicles were packing their things and heading home. This occurred at the same time everyday, but today was the first time he found it irksome. One of their own was missing in the field and the entire office knew about it. He found it shocking that the only other team to help was Agent Barrows' and they were running down the few precious leads that Tony and Ziva had uncovered.

At the moment, the bullpen was empty as he had sent his two remaining agents on a dinner run. They had showed menus and asked what he felt like. Lying, he told them to bring him some Chinese. Honestly, he wasn't hungry and to have a man MIA certainly didn't whet the appetite.

Reviewing the simple evidence for the umpteenth time, he knew there was very little to go on in McGee's disappearance. Only his prints were on his Sig, which had been found in a back bedroom under the bed. The equipment in the driveway had his and Hanrahan's prints on it. McGee's cuffs was the only item Gibbs knew to be missing, meaning the agent was likely alive. _At least, for now._

Unfortunately, Tony and Ziva's frantic searches and background checks had bore little fruit. Since his parents' deaths, Hanrahan had few local contacts, no additional properties and did not appear to spend much time anywhere other then home. The search of his house yielded bags of trash, several baby cannabis plants and a dozen small bags of pot as well as some related paraphernalia. Not enough to indicate it was solely for personal use, but not enough to confirm he was dealing.

Several hours ago, Gibbs left Abby, red-eyed and sullen, with her evidence. Hunkered down with several Pow-Berry CafPows, the forensic scientist was reviewing the material from McGee's abduction. The only thing she had managed to discover, aside from Hanrahan's eating habits in various stages of decay, was a single partial print on a pot bag. Although she had made no promises, she was currently running it through every database she could think of. Knowing Abby, she had everything down to her pigtails crossed that this would turn up a lead.

Sighing, he turned his sight back to the Wilkowski murder. Gibbs still wasn't sure whether these two cases were related. Perhaps his team was headed in the wrong direction by digging up a six month old rape. It was entirely possible that the victim's beloved boyfriend was her murderer.

Even so, the extensive search of his home failed to yield either a confederate rifle or a rusting bayonet. Despite a bloody can lid from the garbage that Abby had quick-typed to reveal an injury to someone with AB- blood, the same as Wilkowski. The lid showed that Hanrahan possibly spent time with the victim, or someone else with the same extremely rare blood type, in his home. The evidence was not enough to include or exclude him from their potential suspect pool. Though abducting a federal agent and running made him look pretty damn guilty.

Circumstantial evidence would not bring a murder to justice and Tim McGee home. Clenching his teeth, the team leader allowed himself a moment of frustration. They had _nothing _to go on and he couldn't be the one to break it to the rest of his team. As he started back through the case files, he knew the answer was somewhere in his agents' reports or Abby's findings.

_It just had to be..._

"Thanks for coming on such short notice. I hope you can appreciate how urgent our current situation is." Director Shepard's tense voice carried from the hallway and Gibbs felt his ears perk up. Jumping up from his desk and heading to where she was, he began to feel intensely suspicious about her reluctance to assign a larger detail then Agent Barrows' team to McGee's case. He turned the corner and immediately recognized the two of the three men flanking the director. Figured she would call for inter-agency back-up and neglect to inform him.

Joining a group of suits by the elevator, Gibbs interrupted her discussion. "Thanks for keeping me in the loop, Jenny." He could see the younger men looking to their boss with raised eyebrows and bit back a laugh. "Tobias," he greeted curtly, before turning his attention back to the director. "My agent. My team. _My case._"

Shepard opened her mouth to speak, but FBI Agent Tobias Fornell started before she could. "You know Gibbs. Any abduction that involves a federal agent automatically becomes FBI jurisdiction. Agent McGee's disappearance is now _our _case." He motioned to Agent Sacks and a new agent that Gibbs assumed to be Agent Wayne.

"Jethro," Shepard stated, authoritatively. "You and your team already have a case to investigate. I called Agent Fornell in to take over Agent McGee's case because a missing agent _is _technically the FBI's jurisdiction. Your team is spread thin as it is."

Narrowing his eyes at her, Gibbs ignored her comment. Instead, he turned his attention to Fornell and growled. "Can I have a word?"

Nodding, Tobias stepped into the elevator car with Gibbs. The two other agents exchanged a wide-eyed look. "Go get caught up," he ordered his team. Almost as soon as the doors closed, Gibbs threw the emergency switch. "What's going on, Jethro?"

Gibbs leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. At the very least, he could try to be honest with the FBI agent. Friends were a foreign concept to Gibbs, but he figured Fornell was the closest he came. "McGee's missing. DiNozzo and Abby are taking it hard. David's the only one who has her head in the game. I'm in two cases and my leads are drying up. That's _what's going on...so, _how's our ex-wife?"

"Doing good when she's not trying to figure out a new way to screw me. I think I'm getting more after the divorce then when we were married," Fornell grinned, trying to lighten the situation. Gibbs gave him an 'I-told-you-so" look and both men laughed. "Emily's doing good though. Good grades in school and she just started ballet."

"That's great to hear."

"Now Jethro, what is it that you'd like me to do? You can lead and I'll run point. Just do me a favor and try to make it look like I'm calling the shots to Shepard and my agents, okay?"

"Done. Now, can you get some agents to interview a witness in Seattle?"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:48pm - unknown place**-

Hours. It must have been hours since the car ground to a halt and Hanrahan got out, slamming the door so hard it made McGee's ears ring. He had braced himself, ready to leap into action when the trunk opened. But that moment never came. How long had he been in the trunk? Was Hanrahan coming back for him?

Inhaling deeply, he tried to push the panic from his mind. But what if Hanrahan had left him here to die?

His pulse quickened and he felt himself beginning to hyperventilate. With every breath, the air in the trunk became even hotter and more oppressive. Sweat was soaking through McGee's dress shirt, but he couldn't maneuver himself around to remove his coat. A part of him wondered how long it would take for him to suffocate. Sadly, he didn't have the luxury of mathematical models to calculate his estimated survival time.

A quiet sound outside the trunk piqued his interest. Straining, he could swear he heard footsteps approaching. Or maybe he hallucinating from the lack of oxygen. Though it never hurt to be prepared as he curled his hands into fists and psyched himself up to launch an attack on Hanrahan. Lying in wait, he listened intently after the footsteps stopped. _Waiting...waiting..._

Suddenly, the trunk lid opened. Bright sunlight filled McGee's eyes, momentarily blinding him. When they returned to focus, Hanrahan's gun was the only thing in his vision. "Come on, out," the seaman urged. "And don't do anything stupid."

McGee awkwardly climbed out of the trunk, gulping in the fresh air. Now, he was freezing. "Where are we?" His voice sounded weak to his own ears.

Giving the agent a hard push forward, Hanrahan pointed towards a dilapidated cabin several yards down the gravel drive. "Move," he ordered. On shaky legs, McGee walked forward and tried to take in his surroundings. The sensory deprivation of the trunk was making it difficult to focus.

Trees. All around the gravel drive were trees and lots of them. He was somewhere in the woods, heading towards what looked like someone's old hunting cabin. Another car, an aging pick-up, sat in the drive a few feet from where he walked now. There was nothing else in the clearing, aside from the drive that headed sharply down a hill and into the forest._ Where in G-d's name was he?_

Hanrahan pushed him again and he stumbled up the stairs. The age of the cabin was evident in its weather-beaten exterior and the carpenter ants that marched along the porch. All the insects made McGee's stomach turn. Pulling open the screen door that was held on by one hinge, he crossed into a dark hallway. There was someone else present in the cabin and he could hear a radio playing a sports game elsewhere.

"Move." McGee did as he was ordered and headed down the hallway. He could see an offshoot and what appeared to be a small kitchen. There were a few closed doors on either side of the hall and he didn't want to know what they held. Impatient, Hanrahan placed a guiding hand on his shoulder and forced him roughly towards the back.

There was a small room, akin to a mudroom, with a dirty linoleum floor. Hanrahan pushed McGee across the room to where an exposed pipe sat next to a radiator. "On the floor, hands behind your back." As soon as the agent complied, he felt Hanrahan reach and squeeze his handcuffs around his wrists. The seaman stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Several seconds passed as McGee revisited the situation. The adrenaline from the move was working its way out of his system and he could feel his heart returning to a slow, steady rhythm. Glancing around the room, he searched for some clue to his whereabouts. There was nothing in the room, save for him and the dirty floor. Above him, a window allowed the dying natural light to illuminate a patch beside him. He wondered what time is and since he was starting to feel hungry, assumed it to be very nearly dinner time.

Surely, his team had figured out what happened to him by now. At least, he hoped...

Exhaustion hit him out of nowhere. Outside the door, he heard the low murmurs of the radio and a muted conversation between Hanrahan and whoever the other person was. As he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, the clanking of the cuffs on the pipe filled him with sudden despair. He hung his head to his chest and let out a quiet sigh.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:02pm - Bullpen** - **NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

It was well after dark when Tony and Ziva returned to the NCIS garage, arms heavy with bags of Chinese food. The senior field agent pitied whomever used the car next since it reeked with the fried glory of eggrolls. "I still can't believe Gibbs made us leave together," he growled, as they made their way to the elevator. "The food run is a probie's - ."

Interrupting the comment, Ziva changed the subject. "Gibbs sent us together because he believes we need to have each other's neck."

"Back, Ziva." As he made his way into the bullpen, DiNozzo noticed a very young, blonde man working at his desk. He placed his load of food on Gibbs' desk and passed his boss the coffee he requested. "Boss?" he asked, motioning to the man messing with his computer.

"Director Shepard decided we needed some assistance from the FBI," Gibbs stated, not looking up from his computer. "Fornell and Sacks are running the investigation for McGee's disappearance out of their office. Agent Wayne is on loan so we can continue ours here."

Wayne stood from his perch behind Tony's desk and extended his hand. "Please, call me Bruce, Agent DiNozzo." Tony grinned at Ziva and opened his mouth. "No," the FBI agent cut off. "I am not Batman. I do not have an estate and Alfred is not my butler."

"Why would you be Batman?" Ziva queried, as she pulled her Beef and Broccoli out of the bag.

"Bruce Wayne is Batman's alterego," Wayne explained, shuffling out of Tony's seat. Looking around the bullpen, he appeared confused. As he started to head toward McGee's desk, Gibbs grunted loudly and pointed to a desk around the corner. Feeling rejected, Wayne moved to the vacant desk and flipped on the computer.

Tony's stomach growled loudly as the smell of Ziva's food filled the bullpen. He approached Gibbs' desk to find the team leader eating his MooShoo Pork with gusto. "Boss, that's my - . " He was cut off by a withering glance and pulled out the chow mein the team leader had ordered. "Enjoy the pork, boss." Wayne peeked his head around the cubicle wall and Tony tossed him his eggroll. "Hope you're not too hungry, Batman!"

Inhaling the noodle dish, he turned his attention back to the Wilkowski murder. He ran a service check on Wilkowski's squad leader, Staff Sargent Zeke Mathews. Graduated from Penn State, 1994 with honors. Enlisted right after. Married in 1998. Twin daughters born in 2000. Divorced in 2001. Multiple tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. He was highly decorated, earning a purple heart in Iraq for taking a bullet. On paper, he appeared to be an upstanding man. Following a hunch, DiNozzo ran a check of any police activity relating to the Staff Sargent. He dropped his fork as a police report appeared from 2001 in which Mathews' wife accused him of rape. "Boss? I got something," Tony said, transferring his information to the plasma and giving the team leader a rundown.

"Go pick him up," Gibbs ordered, as Tony and Ziva began to gear up. "And take Wayne with you."

Letting out an audible sigh, Tony called out. "C'mon Batman, let's go."

As Wayne rounded the corner, Tony could suddenly appreciate why Gibbs had wanted him to come. He hadn't really looked at the man before. Several inches taller then Tony and built like a linebacker, Agent Wayne was physically imposing. Despite his near bleached hair and baby-face, he could likely intimidate a suspect. "If I'm Batman, that makes you Alfred," he quipped, moving past Tony and heading towards the elevator.

"I can be Alfred," Tony said, as he followed trying to keep up with the other man's strides. "So did you play football?"

"Theatre, actually."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:13pm - SSgt Mathews' apartment building, Silver Spring, MD - **

"Man, I'm still hungry. I can _smell _the eggrolls," Wayne remarked, as Tony pulled the Charger that reeked of Chinese food in front of a small apartment complex in Silver Spring. On the way over, he had debated on opening the windows to try to air the car out but decided against it due to the plummeting temperatures outside.

"We'll get something on the way back," Tony promised, killing the engine and getting out of the car.

"Can we take the suspect through the drive-through?" Wayne asked, grey eyes glittering with excitement. With how large he was, Tony had forgotten he was still a rookie, only out of Quantico a few months.

"Sure. You got a bet or something?" DiNozzo asked, as they approached the complex.

Climbing the stairs two at a time, Wayne nodded. "Yeah. Got a bet going with a couple of my buddies from the farm about who can go through a drive-through with a suspect first. Got three hundred bucks riding on it."

As they approached SSgt. Mathews' front door, Tony replied calmly. "Cut me in for half and I'll make sure you win."

"Done." Before DiNozzo could start to knock, Bruce brought his thick arm up and pounded on the door. "Staff Sargent Zeke Mathews, FBI. _Open up._"

Footsteps could be heard on the other side and slowly the door opened. A man about Tony's size and age opened the door, his face looked angry. "What do you want?" he slurred, slightly unsteady on his feet as he leaned against the door. DiNozzo hardly believed the inebriated man before them was a decorated war vet, but then again everyone had leave to spend as they wished...

Tony reached for his badge, but Wayne beat him to the punch. "FBI Agent Bruce Wayne," he said, voice reverberating with authority. The staff sargent's mouth opened, but was cut off. "No, I'm not Batman. This," he gestured to Tony, "is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Mind if we come in? It's a bit chilly out here."

Shrugging, Mathews stepped aside and allowed the agents to enter his apartment. A small studio with a bed practically in the kitchen. Nearly every inch of the apartment was covered in books. In the corner sat an easel with the start of painting of two small young girls. DiNozzo gestured to the painting. "You do this? Not bad."

Mathews nodded. "I started painting years ago to help work through my post traumatic stress disorder. Too many tours in the desert. But we all know you two aren't here to discuss my art. What do you want?"

"We need to ask you some questions about a Marine who used to be in your unit," Tony stated. Mathews gestured for him to continue. "Leah Wilkowski was found murdered yesterday. During our investigation, we discovered that she'd been raped during her last tour. _Under your watch._"

Shaking his head, Mathews turned his back on the agents. "She never mentioned it to me. You'd think she would have said something. Only requested a unit transfer after her stay in medical, which I gladly signed off on. An emotionally unstable Marine is not someone you want riding in your Humvee."

"Funny that you didn't follow up on why she wanted a transfer," Wayne stated, sounding suspicious.

"Not my problem," Mathews shrugged, seeming to sober up as the conversation took a more serious turn. "Is that all?"

"Actually, would you mind coming back to NCIS with us? We'd like to ask you a few more questions down there," DiNozzo stated, gesturing his head toward the door.

"Do you have a warrant?"

"Excuse me?"

"A warrant. Am I under arrest, Agent DiNozzo?"

"No. But we need to take a statement at - ."

"Unless I'm under arrest or you have evidence, I'm afraid I'm staying put. The Redskins game is on tonight and it's cold outside. Sorry boys, let me show you the way out," Mathews smiled widely, reminding Tony of a shark. A part of him wanted to knock the man's teeth out. As he and Wayne made their way back into the cold, his stomach clenched and DiNozzo only wished he knew why.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

_**Author's note 2.0 : **As far as I could find in my research, a disappearance involving a federal agent seems to fall under FBI jurisdiction. This remains unconfirmed, but at least we get to see Fornell.  
_


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer : Still own nothing. If you recognize it, I still don't own it. I also make no money from this. **

**Warnings :** _Graphic descriptions of a corpse. Minor violence. Mentions of rape. _

**Author's Note :** _First, I'd like to start off as always thanking everyone who is reading, favoriting and following this story. I appreciate that time you're taking to experience this story with me. I'd also like to give a huge thanks to **PaisleyGibbs, diana teo, Gottahavemyncis, ytteb, charmed4eva112, **and **AussieTayla **for the reviews and letting me know what they think. _

_Second, I'd like to make a few corrections to the story going forward. I was made aware of a few inaccuracies in the last chapter. So there are a few minor changes for the character of SSgt. Mathews. He is no longer a West Point grad (one will only graduate as a commissioned officer of Captain or higher), he now graduated from Penn State. He is no longer a commanding officer (this is only the highest ranking officers), instead he is a squad leader. As far as the FBI taking over McGee's case, I'm not 100% sure that FBI has jurisdiction over a missing agent's case. I assumed after some minor research that they would. So forgive me if it's inaccurate, but we got to see Fornell. I also appreciate the heads up to make this story accurate.  
_

_Anyway, I'm making a Sunday update to move the story forward a bit and I'd like to get those corrections sorted out.  
_

_I took some liberties with fingerprint matching in this story.  
_

_Also, I do introduce a new bad guy in this chapter. Good guys get partners, so shouldn't bad guys have one too?  
_

_Hope everyone is having a nice weekend.  
_

_Let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:26pm, Bullpen -** **NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

Taking another swig of his coffee, Gibbs rose and started to leave the bullpen. He ignored Ziva's questioning eyes and focused his thoughts on autopsy. Even though it was growing late, he knew the aging medical examiner would still be in his office to consult.

Taking the stairs, he needed a few extra minutes to clear his mind and try connect some dots that seemed to not make sense. In the hall, the stench of death filled his nose before he even entered autopsy. He pushed through the doors and found the morgue darkened. "Duck?" he called out, looking for signs of life. The irony was certainly not lost on him.

Mirrored doors on the far side of the lab opened and light spilled out of the office. "Jethro!" Dr. Donald Mallard said warmly. "Come in." Entering the tight office, Gibbs took a quick look around and noticed an open bottle of whiskey on the medical examiner's neat desk.

"Little early for that, huh, Duck?"

"I heard about Timothy and it's helped to ease my nerves. Poor boy. I'm reviewing the files that Ziva sent down on your petty officer. Sadly, there is not much for me on which to build a personality analysis. He appears to be a young loner who uses marijuana recreationally. His reading material," he gestured to a pile of smutty magazines "indicates he is likely childish and unpredictable. Judging from the state Ziva stated his home was kept, I'm surprised he was able to catch the eye of such a beautiful girl as LCpl. Wilkowski." Gibbs nodded and Ducky continued. "To me, it seems as though he stopped living his life when his parents died two years ago. Aside from his activities at work, there is little to indicate he leaves the house for anything other than work or food."

Gibbs listened intently. Pausing for several beats, he finally asked, "Anything that shows how he might react with McGee?"

"Truthfully, there is nothing in his affects to make me think that he is a killer. I believe that he abducted Timothy in a moment of haste. I do not believe he intends to harm the young man. But I do believe he has the ability to become unpredictable if provoked."

"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs turned on his heel ready to head out, when Mallard grabbed his arm.

"Jethro, I'm not done yet. There are some interesting things on our young Lance Corporal's body." Heading out of the office, he flipped on the autopsy lights and pulled the sheet off the body. Pulling on a pair of gloves, he shone the overhead lights on Wilkowski's body. "There, Jethro." He pointed to several large bruises that covered the corpse.

"What are those?"

"It appeared she was punched repeatedly. Several of her ribs were broken," Ducky gestured behind him to unlit radiographs and Gibbs nodded. "But that's not the interesting part. Whoever made these marks was right handed and wearing some sort of large ring, like a class ring. Though she was stabbed fourteen times by a right handed person," Mallard pointed to the puncture wounds in her side. "This one that pierced her pericardial sac was cause of death. A tamponade, or blood filling the sac around the heart, put pressure on it and eventually stopped its beating. It reminds me of how they used to execute - ."

"That painful?" Gibbs cut off the medical examiner before he could start into a story that contained no relevance to the task at hand.

"Excruciating. The poor girl suffered dearly..." Mallard looked sympathetically at the corpse's face. "But what is interesting about the wounds is that these stab wounds are more shallow indicating that they are pre-mortem. It was almost as though the killer was working up his courage to able plunge the knife into her heart. Likely, the killer is someone with whom she has history."

"Thanks Duck."

Readying to head out of autopsy, Gibbs was stopped by the medical examiner again. "How are you taking Timothy's disappearance, Jethro?"

"Fine, just fine. Thanks Duck," Gibbs said shortly, as he headed back to the elevator. As he entered the car, his phone gave an irritating ring. "Gibbs."

"Gibbs, Fornell here." The man on the other end of the phone paused, as if expecting a greeting. When he realized one was not coming, he continued. "I had a couple of agents from the Seattle branch interview Reynolds. Took a while, but she finally told them who raped her." Fornell stopped again, awaiting some acknowledgement from Gibbs.

"And who was it, Tobias?" Gibbs growled, stepping off the elevator and heading back to the bullpen.

"She fingered a man named Richard Reiben. Claimed he attacked her in Iraq and then threatened to kill her if she reported him."

Flipping the phone closed, Gibbs stalked back into the bullpen and saw his senior field agent starting to remove his coat. "Don't bother, DiNozzo. You and Wayne, go pick up Reiben." Ziva clicked on her computer and Gibbs saw her face anger. He needed her here to run down computer leads since McGee was gone and everyone knew DiNozzo was worthless when it came to technology.

Sighing, Tony's featured tightened and he shrugged his coat back on. "C'mon Batman, let's roll!"

Wayne rounded the corner, clutching a McDonald's bag and buttoning his coat. "Can I eat this in the car, Alfred?"

"Only if you stop calling me Alfred."

"Sounds good, Robin. Now can I drive?" Gibbs rolled his eyes as the two bickered about nicknames and Batman on the way out of the bullpen. As irritating as it was, his senior agent did need a distraction and whatever was going on with Wayne seemed to be helping. At this point, he didn't care if DiNozzo needed to do cartwheels around the office as long as it made him _focus. _

Playing with his computer, Gibbs tried and catastrophically failed at an internet search. He glanced at the two case files on his desk and leafed through them. The contents had been read and reread. Every word was burned into his brain, but there was still some connection that was missing.

Maybe Abby had something...

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:16pm - Forensic Lab** **- NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC - **

One of them was beeping. One of her babies had something. "Yessss!" Forensic scientist Abigail Scuito cheered and hugged her stuffed hippo, Bert. "Now we have something and it'll bring Timmy home!" The machine begging for her attention was Fernando, her computer that was running the partial print from the pot bag in Hanrahan's home.

Unfortunately, the finger print was only good enough for a five point match. Odds were good that there would be several hits since Abby had checked every database she could think of. "Six hundred eighty one?!" she wailed, dropping her head onto Bert. He farted his sympathies to her. As she wallowed in despair, a sloshing noise alerted her. Not moving, she moaned. "Gibbs, I can't take anymore of the CafPow Powberry! I ran it through Major Mass Spec and there's no extra caffeine."

She heard him put the cup on her lab table. "Just the regular stuff, Abs. Whaddya got?"

"Nothing Gibbs. I have nothing," she wailed, on the brink of tears. "The only thing I have is a partial print and six hundred eighty one possible suspects! I have checked and rechecked the metal shavings from Ducky and it's definitely a bayonet from a confederate rifle. I need the weapon to compare to the wound. There's nothing on Hanrahan's computer aside from porn. Lots and lots and lots of porn. I need help..." She suddenly burst into tears and Gibbs drew her close. "I need McGee's help, but he's not here. It's my job to find out where he is and I _can't._"

Gibbs kissed her forehead and looked deeply into her eyes, red and mascara stained. "Not your job, Abs. It's mine to find him and bring him home safe. You run that check on Hanrahan's car?"

She nodded. "Only footage of Hanrahan's car was blowing through an EZPass, getting off I-76 in central Pennsylvania."

"Cross check the guys on that list." Gibbs pointed to Fernando. "Then see if any of them knew Hanrahan or own property in PA." Before she could speak, Gibbs answered his phone. "Yeah, Gibbs...okay, I'm on my way." Flipping the phone closed, he hugged her again and she willed herself not to cry again. "I'll bring him home, Abs. _I promise_." A single kiss to her forehead and he was gone.

Reaching across the computer, Abby clicked a few times and put up her favorite picture of McGee. She lit her Bunsen burner in front of it, even though she wasn't intending to use the flame. A long, cold sip of her favorite beverage readied her for action. She looked at the picture of the missing agent and said pointedly, "You still owe me a Caf-Pow..."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:05pm, unknown place**-

McGee had been dozing uncomfortably against the wall when Hanrahan burst into the mudroom, throwing the overhead light on. Even though his eyes were adjusting to the light, McGee could still see the glint of the gun on Hanrahan's waistband. His chest tightened and he wondered what brought the Petty Officer back.

The Navyman said nothing as he unlocked McGee's cuffs and motioned for him to stand. Rubbing his wrists, the agent sat rooted to the floor. He couldn't get the thought of dying out of his head.

"Get up," the petty officer ordered, pulling McGee to his feet. A hard shove sent the agent stumbling towards the door. With every step, he wondered how many more he had to take. Paralyzed, he felt sick to his stomach. An exasperated sigh came from Hanrahan, who placed a strong arm on his shoulder and pushed him out of the mudroom and into a small bathroom. "Take your time, Tim."

McGee bristled at the use of his first name. As Hanrahan left and closed the door, he gripped the sink to steady himself. It took him several seconds to realize he had not used the bathroom since he'd left NCIS headquarters that morning. _Had it really only been the morning? _It felt like the entire ordeal had taken days, not merely hours.

He relieved himself, washed his hands and splashed water on his face to hide the trails of the few tears that escaped earlier. As he opened the door, Hanrahan reappeared with gun in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Handing the water to McGee, he gestured the agent back to the mudroom. "Thought you might be thirsty."

Even in the poorly lit room, the water looked filmy and slightly discolored. Smelling the water, McGee couldn't pick anything up but something seemed off. Weighing his options, he debated about what to do. The liquid had likely been tampered with. Shaking his head, he held it out to Hanrahan. "'I'm not thirsty."

"Just drink it."

"No. I don't want to."

"Tim, just drink it," Hanrahan urged, fear creeping into his voice. As McGee forced the glass into Hanrahan's hands, another man stormed into the room. Standing at least half a foot taller then McGee and thickly-built, the man glared at the agent menacingly. He wrested the weapon from Hanrahan. "Stoakes, don't...Michael..._don't_.."

Stoakes held up a hand to silence the petty officer. "You're being too G-ddamn nice. On your knees, fed." McGee's eyes flicked from Stoakes' angry black ones to Hanrahan's wide, worried ones. The petty officer did not seem to have any control on the situation. Feeling nauseous, McGee sank to his knees and Hanrahan passed the glass back to him. As Stoakes placed the gun barrel to his forehead, McGee closed his eyes tightly. "Drink it."

The agent complied, downing the water as quickly as his stomach would allow. The trio remained frozen for several minutes until McGee started to pitch forward. Feeling off kilter, he placed his hands on the ground to steady himself. As he held on, he could feel it tilting with him.

A pair of hands locked under his armpits and pulled him across the room, but he felt too limp to fight. The world was sliding sideways and he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. He felt his arms drawn behind him and secured to the pipe again. He felt fuzzy and ticklish. Just as he was about to start giggling, he was out.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**11:19pm - Interrogation -** **NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC - **

As he stood in the viewing room by interrogation, DiNozzo almost felt bad for LCpl. Richard Reiben. The young Marine had been readying himself for bed when he and Wayne had stopped by his house to pick him up. Wayne had gone into Bat-mode and hauled the man into interrogation. Now Reiben sat, in pajamas, staring blankly at the interrogation table.

"Did I miss anything?" FBI agent Bruce Wayne asked, entering the viewing room. Shaking his head, DiNozzo held out his hand and Wayne slipped three fifties into it. They had stopped at Wendy's on the way back on the premise of getting food for Ziva and Gibbs, but in reality, Wayne really did need to win his bet. Of course, Tony had definitely not helped the younger man secure his winnings by taking a picture of him in the car at the drive-thru or vouching for him. Gibbs would never allow him to do something like that.

Ignoring Wayne as he pulled a cheeseburger out his pocket, DiNozzo studied Reiben more. If he had to say, the man looked terrified. The door to interrogation opened and Gibbs strode in, two files in hand. This was Tony's favorite part... when his team leader just sat and stared at the suspect.

"That's it?" Wayne asked. Placing a finger on his lips, Tony motioned for him to watch.

Reiben's eyes widened at Gibbs. "Why am I here, sir? I told you everything that I know about Leah's death."

Reaching into his case files, Gibbs pulled out one picture at a time and dramatically slammed it on the table. A photo of Wilkowski's body. A photo of a young woman DiNozzo assumed to be Elyse Reynolds. A photo of McGee that made DiNozzo visibly flinch.

"Got any more food?" he whispered to Wayne, who passed him a still-warm cheeseburger. Tony decided not to ask how it traveled and managed to stay warm.

"That's Elyse Reynolds, sir. What does this have to do with her?"

"She says you raped her in Iraq and then threatened to kill her if she told anyone. Is that what happened with Wilkowski? Who'd she tell?" As Gibbs spoke, Reiben almost looked relieved until the words sank in.

"I didn't rape anyone, sir, and I didn't kill Leah." The Marine's cheeks turned pink and he looked like he might burst into tears.

"Where were you Sunday night, Marine?" Gibbs asked.

"With my significant other, sir." Reiben blushed fiercely and his eyes dropped, evading Gibbs'.

_"Where were you?"_

"My significant other and I were at my house, watching TV all night then we went for a run the next morning. Sir." His eyes were fixated on the photo of Wilkowski's body. DiNozzo covered his eyes as soon as he realized where the interrogation was headed. _There was no way._

"Stop screwing around, Marine," Gibbs pounded the table. "Who were you with? One of my agents is missing because of this case."

"My boyfriend. Jonas White, sir." Reiben cried out, the tears starting down his face. "I couldn't have raped Elyse or Leah. I'm not attracted to them." As Gibbs rose and left the room, DiNozzo couldn't help but feel sorry for the Marine as he sobbed into the interrogation table. Likely, the man knew his planned military career would be over if his and his lover's secret got out.

Wayne let out a low whistle. "Impressive."

DiNozzo headed to find Gibbs. He didn't have to look far since his boss was in the hall yelling at someone on the phone. "I don't care!...she _lied _to those agents. I still don't care. _I. DON'T. CARE. _She had better be in _my_ interrogation by 0800!"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Author's Note 2.0 :** _Don't Ask, Don't Tell is still in effect during the time of the story. It was repealed 9.20.11. __  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer : Still own nothing but seasons 1 - 5. Maybe someday I'll own season 6 too.  
**

**Warnings :** _Minor violence.  
_

**Author's Note :** _ Again, thank you to all the readers, favoriters and followers. Without readers, there is no story. A huge, huge note of gratitude to the commenters : **RJane's Vindication, Gottahavemyncis, diana teo, PaisleyGibbs, charmed4eva112, **and **ytteb. **Thanks for taking the time to let me know what you think._

_W__e're a little more then halfway through the story._

_Season 10 premieres tonight. Still not sure if I'm excited or not. The past couple of seasons have really changed the characters that I loved in the first half of the show. Hopefully, a new producer will give us some interesting storylines again and restore the characters to their old selves. Here's hoping.  
_

_Anyway.  
_

_Let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Wednesday, October 17, 2006 - 1.22am - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

A cup of coffee, a comforting hand, and the promise of complete discretion was all it took for Special Agent Tony DiNozzo to pry the hysterical, former suspect, LCpl Richard Reiben, out of interrogation. Sending a shattered man home alone in a cab made Tony feel awful, but at this hour there were no probationary agents left to play chauffeur.

Feeling disgusted by the previous few hours' events, Tony slunk back into the bullpen and settled into his desk. The words on his computer monitor blurred in front of him. Exhaustion had settled into his bones and his movements were painful. Taking stock of the bullpen, Ziva was surprisingly absent and Gibbs was still reviewing his files under the soft glow of his desk lamp. DiNozzo wondered how many times his boss had read those files on some chance that he might have missed a detail on the fourth or four-hundredth review.

Leads were slowing up. At the moment, the case and remnants of the team seemed at a standstill. A few hours earlier, DiNozzo had recounted the events at SSgt. Zeke Mathews' apartment with Gibbs. Deep down, he had hoped his boss knew a legal loophole or some way to haul the Staff Sargent into interrogation. Gibbs had simply ground his teeth and quietly said, "Damn bastard knows we have no evidence against him..._yet_."

Starting another search of Mathews' combat records, Tony began to feel deflated. Solving this case was paramount to solving Wilkowski's murder and ultimately, bringing McGee home. He sighed quietly, suddenly feeling useless. "DiNozzo! Wayne!" Gibbs brought Tony back to reality and the tired face of Bruce Wayne appeared over the cubicle wall behind McGee's desk.

"Boss?"

"Go home, both of you. Get some sleep."

Wayne and DiNozzo's eyes met, making a silent pledge between them. Shaking his head, Tony said flatly. "Nope, boss. I go home when McGee does."

"Same goes for me," Wayne challenged, softening slightly when Gibbs shot him a death glare. "Sir, I don't leave an agent missing in the field."

Shrugging, Gibbs turned his attention back to his files. "Suit yourselves."

"C'mon Wayne, let's go check on Abby," Tony motioned for the hulking man to follow him. Just because he wasn't going home to sleep didn't mean he couldn't catch a few hours on the floor of the forensics lab.

"Sounds good, Robin. Let's roll." Terror sprung up in DiNozzo's heart as he glanced over at his boss, praying that the other man had not heard his newest nickname. The team leader seemed unfazed and Tony was silently thankful that Gibbs would not be calling him "boy wonder" in the coming weeks.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**1:43am - Forensics Lab - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC - **

Stepping off the elevator, there was no music and DiNozzo felt saddened by the quiet. The last time Abby's lab had been silent was right after Kate had died. Shaking his head, he tried to stop those thoughts from returning. _McGee was not dead. _

Entering the lab, DiNozzo took a quick survey of the space. The area looked like a tornado had blown through, leaving a wreckage of pipet tips, gloves, and CafPow cups in its wake. A loud snoring could be heard coming from "inner sanctum" and Tony figured Ziva had beat him and Wayne to the futon. "Abby?" He called out.

The forensic scientist emerged from her internal office wearing skull print pajamas and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers, clutching a small stuffed skull. With her eyes red and swollen, Abby Scuito looked like she had not slept for days. Next to him, DiNozzo heard Wayne exhale loudly and say to himself "no way."

Seeing Tony made new tears spring to her eyes and he was still didn't know what to do with a hysterical woman. Opening his arms, he pulled her into a tight hug as she sobbed into his suit jacket. Tony looked helplessly to Wayne, who gave a sympathetic smile and started to rub Abby's shoulder. Instantly, she froze, recoiled from Tony and glanced at the intruder, who smiled and introduced himself. "FBI Agent Bruce Wayne. I'm on loan to aid with Agent McGee's disappearance."

Biting her lip, Abby nodded. "Abby Scuito, forensics. Welcome to my lab, it's a bit of a mess. Hey...are you - ?"

"You bet I'm Batman. Just don't spread it around."

Abby let out a small laugh and smiled. "I was going to say Fornell's team. But it's good to know we have the dark knight on our side. You guys need a place to crash? Unfortunately, Ziva beat you to the futon but I don't think she'd mind if one of you shared with her. Or I have a few pillows and cushions but you'll have to sleep on the floor..."

Debating about climbing into the futon with a sleeping assassin, DiNozzo decided against it as he remembered she always slept clutching a Glock under her pillow. "You know Wayne, you look like you've had a hard day. Maybe you should take the futon."

"You sure, man?" Bruce asked and DiNozzo nodded. "Whoa, that's awfully nice of you. Despite what Sacks said about you, you're alright." The FBI agent headed towards "inner sanctum" and Tony couldn't help but wonder what wonderful things Sacks had to say about him...

Turning his attention to Abby, Tony asked her. "You okay, Abs?" She nodded, pulled her stuffed hippo off the nearby lab bench and handed it to him. "Find anything new?"

Again, she nodded. "Tox screens came back for Leah. Blood alcohol was 0.12, but she had nothing else in her system. I ran her stomach contents and she had eaten nachos, a cheese burger and likely a couple of beers. I'm in the process of running the chemical composition of the beer to determine a manufacturer. I also - ."

Suddenly, the snoring from the office stopped and they heard Wayne let out a yelp. A few seconds later, two differing sets of snores started from the inner room. Both Abby and Tony started laughing. "No guns in the lab, so what does she have?"

"A pretty big stick," Abby giggled and Tony felt thankful for the few seconds of normalcy. "I also found white cat hairs on Leah's clothes, but not many...there's really not much else on the body and I'm not sure why she has no shoes on."

"No dirt on her feet means the killer took the shoes," Tony suggested. "Probably for a trophy. We find the shoes and we find the killer." He paused for a several seconds. His mouth dried out and he swallowed, trying to rewet it. "Anything new on McGee?"

"Still cross referencing the partial print on the pot bag to someone that Hanrahan might have known. After I eliminated dead guys, Interpol, and overseas people I still have about two hundred and thirty four. Since I'm supposed to report everything I find to the FBI, I called the fingerprint guys and they said it'd take a couple of days to go through the results. I'll do it myself and have it done by tomorrow. I just need more CafPows..." Abby looked at Tony, expectantly.

Shaking his head, he dropped Bert to the floor with a loud fart and laid down after him. DiNozzo reclined on the hippo and held his arms open to Abby. "No more CafPows tonight, Abs. You need a few hours of sleep." Reluctantly, Abby climbed down and burrowed into his shoulder. With her rhythmic breathing comforting him, he was pulled into a dreamless sleep...

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:28 am - Autopsy - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

Running. He was running after his young daughter, always one step behind her and pretending to miss tagging her _IT. _The sun warmed his skin and he could feel the beads of sweat evaporating from the top of his head. Smiling broadly, Kelly turned to face him and she looked older, almost like she would have in her twenties. _G-d,_ he thought, _she looks like her mother. _She opened her mouth to speak and a ringing noise came from her lips. "I don't understand!" Gibbs yelled to her. He lips parted again and the ringing noise emerged again. Somewhere between sleep and life, Gibbs fought to hold for a few more seconds with his child. His arms opened to embrace her but the phone rang again and pulled him into the waking world.

Reaching for the mobile in the darkness, he sat up and listened to his back crack in response to the movement. "Gibbs."

"Gibbs, Fornell. I'm heading to pick up Elyse Reynolds from Dulles, she caught a red eye in from Seattle. We'll be at NCIS shortly."

"Okay." Without any unnecessary pleasantries, Gibbs flipped the phone closed and groaned. Losing the extra thirty minutes of sleep he had on his alarm to 0700 had really hit him. Certainly, it had nothing to do with the fact that he passed out on Ducky's gurney at 0430. Or perhaps, he had spent the whole night chasing Kelly through his backyard in his dreams. Every time he had that dream, he found himself wondering what kind of woman his little girl would have become. Shaking his head to clear it, he grabbed his roll of paper towels and headed to the cafeteria to pick up coffees for the team. Today was likely to be a long day.

After his stop at the cafeteria, Gibbs quickly inhaled a raspberry danish as the elevator traveled down to his floor. He entered the bullpen and regarded his existing team already hard at work. As he passed Ziva and Tony, he handed each a cup of coffee. Ignoring the quizzical glance they shared, he summoned Wayne to his desk and passed him a paper cup.

"Wayne. What the hell happened to your clothes?" Gibbs growled, pointing to the expensive, powder blue dress shirt the FBI agent wore. Buttons nearly bursting over his chest muscles and sleeves only reaching his forearms, the shirt appeared several sizes too small. Wayne grinned sheepishly and rolled the sleeves up. Embarrassed, the agent touched the left side of his head where Gibbs noted a small bruise on the pale skin of his temple. He decided not to ask about that one.

Not looking up from his computer, Tony volunteered an explanation. "We needed a change of clothes. I figured if McGeek got back to find his spare shirt stretched out that I'd never heard the end of it. So Wayne has my shirt and I'm wearing McGee's." His senior agent's eyes were hard as he looked at the computer. Satisfied, Gibbs sipped his coffee. He didn't know if he could bring himself to review the files again.

"Anybody got anything new?"

"According to Abby, Wilkowski had a rare beer called the," Ziva relayed, as she checked her notes. " 'Loch Ness Monster.' It is only available at a small pub called 'The Founding Fathers' that is only a few miles from Rock Creek Park. We believe she ate her last meal there." Smiling at Gibbs, Ziva finished her information.

"Go check them out," Gibbs ordered. "Take Wayne with you."

"Gibbs, I do not believe they are open at this hour."

"Then wake someone up."

Ziva nodded, collected her gear, and headed towards the elevator. As they left the bullpen, Gibbs heard Wayne begin to speak and Ziva hissed. "Today, I have a gun." He would let those two sort that out on their own...

Glancing at his senior agent, Gibbs realized the younger man's eyes had not moved from the computer screen since he entered the bullpen. He approached Tony's desk and gave the agent a light slap on the back of the head. "Boss?" Tony looked up at him, blue eyes bleary.

"It's not your fault, DiNozzo."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:17am - unknown location - **

His headed pounded. Opening his eyes slightly, bright light assaulted his retinas and he squeezed them shut. Fighting nausea, Special Agent Timothy McGee pushed himself up into a sitting position against the wall. He breathed hard for a moment, waiting for the feeling of illness to pass. Whatever it was, he was beginning to think death was preferable to the current predicament.

His arms felt numb and he shook them to try to regain sensation. Slowly, he re-opened his eyes and while the world seemed too bright to experience, he could live with it.

Suddenly, the door to the mudroom flew open and connected with the wall, banging loudly. McGee groaned and rested his head against the wall. Laughing, Joey Hanrahan tucked his gun into his waistband and unlocked the cuffs from McGee's wrists. "C'mon. Time for breakfast." The agent looked at him blankly. "It'll help with the hangover."

It took Hanrahan to get the agent standing and several deep breaths to get him moving. Unsteady on his feet, McGee walked out of the room. Every noise in the cabin made him wince and want to hold his head. A quick stop in the bathroom to relieve himself gave the agent a few minutes of privacy to collect himself.

Hanrahan placed a leading arm on his shoulder and pushed him into the kitchen. On a card table set with folding chairs, a small breakfast on what appeared to be eggs sat out. Suppressing a comment on the level of interior decorating, McGee took a seat at the table.

It wasn't until he started to examine the breakfast that he noticed Stoakes sitting on a chair in the corner, watching him intently. Even though he wasn't armed, McGee knew that in his current state he couldn't fight. He sat for several minutes, staring intently at his food, willing his muddled brain to clear. Even feeling like death warmed over, he could see Stoakes becoming increasingly irritated. It appeared to him that Hanrahan was no longer in control of the situation.

At least, they didn't intend for him to starve to death. Finally, McGee picked up a fork and started to eat the revolting, cold squishy mass that had once been called eggs, the pieces of white bread and small fruit cup that sat on the table. He downed a glass of orange Tang and small cup of coffee in front of his plate. Both tasted vile and looked filmy. After the liquid passed down his throat, he realized they were planning on drugging him again.

A stroke of brilliance hit him and he knew that he would have to move quickly for his plan to work. Hanrahan motioned for him to head back to the mudroom. Standing, McGee held tightly on the table and wobbled. "I feel really dizzy." He stumbled and let his legs buckle underneath him. Falling to the floor, he landed hard on his right shoulder.

"How the hell much did you give him?" Hanrahan roared at Stoakes.

"As much as last night. He's probably still got some in his system." McGee felt two set of hands pull on either arm and drag him back into the mudroom. "Cuff him..."

"You saw how that stuff hit him last night. I don't think he even moved. Let's just leave him. He's not going anywhere anyway," Hanrahan challenged. Likely, he was trying to assert his authority over Stoakes. McGee still had no idea who was in control of the situation, but at this point he didn't care.

"Fine." McGee heard the two leave the room and the door close. Heart in his throat, he opened his eyes and slid as quietly as he could towards the door. Their footsteps carried deeper into the cabin and finally, he heard the radio switch on. Feeling relieved, he knew he had to get the food from his stomach. Breakfast was even more disgusting on its reappearance then when it went down.

He groaned, still feeling ill and brain muddled, but he had to get out of the cabin _now. _Even though he had no idea where he was, he figured he had a better chance escaping than staying with armed men. His attention turned to the window above the radiator and he glanced out of it. He could see nothing but a small yard around the cabin, then woods. Lots and lots of woods. The ground was only about 3 feet down from the window.

It was now or never. Bracing himself, he pushed the window opened and recoiled as it let out a large screech. Ignoring the yelling on the other side of the door, he hauled himself over the ledge.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer : Still own nothing but seasons 1 - 5. Maybe someday I'll own season 6 too.  
**

**Warnings :** _Mentions of rape__.  
_

**Author's Note : **_As always, I want to extend a big thanks to everyone who is still reading and who has favorited/followed this story. Huge, huge thanks to **RJane's Vindication, ytteb, victoriantealady, PaisleyGibbs, Gottahavemyncis, DS2010, charmed4eva112, **and **diana teo **for commenting. I am amazed and humbled by the response this story has gotten so far. Thank you all for experiencing it with me. _

_As for the season premiere, I must admit that I am slightly underwhelmed. But hopefully, the season will improve.  
_

_Shooting for Sunday again.  
_

_Well, enough out of me. _

_Let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:41 am - unknown location - **

As soon as his feet hit the ground, Special Agent Timothy McGee sprinted towards the woods. He heard Hanrahan and Stoakes yelling his name behind him. The proximity of their voices propelled him forward, pushing him deeper into the forest.

Running blindly, he weaved around the trees of densely populated forest. His dress shoes provided little traction and he felt them slip repeatedly over the cold ground. Feeling himself tire, McGee paused and leaned against a tree. Lungs and muscles burning, he could go no further. He slid down the tree and rested on the ground, panting hard. On an empty stomach, his head and senses felt dull. He closed his eyes and tried to push away the black dots that were swimming in his vision. Unsure how far he had gotten, he resolved to head in the direction he thought to be north until he found someone who would call for help.

Listening intently for his pursuers, he was relieved to hear nothing but the call of birds. Relaxing slightly, he examined a bit of moss growing near his head on the tree. As he pulled himself to his feet, he recalled his Weblos troop days. Moss generally grew on the north side of a tree, at least he thought it did. Truthfully, he knew it didn't matter which direction he walked in, as long as he did not travel back towards the cabin.

McGee walked for some time and he was beginning to relax more. Even though trekking through the woods created a whole new set of problems, the potential of finding a way back to NCIS comforted him. Since he was getting an early start, he should be able to cover several miles before he needed to find shelter. Maybe he would be lucky and cross another hiker in that time.

Suddenly, a gunshot broke the forest's stillness and a tree to McGee's right exploded, sending splinters into the air. He gasped and pushed into run again as another gunshot rang through the air. A tree to his left exploded and he fell hard on his knees. Before he could get to his feet, a body tackled him to the ground. Knee in his back, he struggled to throw the weight off him. The cold barrel of a gun pushed against the back of his head ended his movements. "Nice try, fed," Stoakes growled in McGee's ear and he felt his pulse race.

"Agent McGee!" Hanrahan yelled, somewhere relatively nearby.

Trying to inhale enough to call out for Hanrahan, McGee let out a loud wheeze. There was no way he was going to left alone in the woods with an armed and pissed Stoakes. A breathless gasp like that of a dying man escaped McGee's lips and he knew the same desperation.

Seconds passed and McGee could feel the perspiration freezing on his forehead. How could he be sweating so badly in the briskness of a fall morning? The sound of crunching leaves sounded and McGee knew Hanrahan had turned back towards their direction. Hearing an annoyed exhale from above at the approaching Navyman, Stoakes called out, "Found 'im, Joey! We're over here."

As Hanrahan broke through the trees, McGee felt slightly relieved at no longer being alone with Stoakes. A part of the agent knew he'd be a dead man had Hanrahan not been nearby. Stoakes replaced the handcuffs on his wrists, hauled him to his feet and pushed him back in the direction of the cabin. As they moved, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:33am - Interrogation - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC - **

As he stood behind the glass in the viewing room, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs stared at the ghost at the interrogation table. Fornell and Sacks had dropped off a tired-eyed Elyse Reynolds a little under an hour ago. While he had watched DiNozzo set up the young woman in interrogation, Gibbs had thought nothing of her. Though now...as he studied her movements : the way she nervously tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear, her impatient exhalation, the drumming of her fingers on the table. The young woman seemed so familiar, while being so foreign. _Something about her reminded him of Kelly._

Lost in thought, Gibbs didn't hear the viewing room door open. "Ready to grill her, boss?" DiNozzo asked, startling the team leader.

Not taking his eyes off the young woman, he shook his head. "You're up first, DiNozzo."

"Boss? You sure? I - ." The look Gibbs leveled at the younger agent silenced him. "Right," he said quietly, taking the case file and leaving the room. Several seconds later, the door to interrogation opened.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Reynolds leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. "Are you planning on telling me why you hauled me across the country to answer questions? I could have done this in Seattle."

"You lied to the FBI," Tony stated, sitting across from the former Marine.

She made a sour face and turned away. "I told them who raped me."

DiNozzo laughed. "Richard Reiben's _boyfriend _didn't appreciate you accusing him of rape."

"What? _Boyfriend_?" Her face paled as she locked eyes with Tony. "Well, maybe I don't exactly remember who it was. I was pretty sure he was there. Maybe not though. I don't know."

He leaned across the table and yelled. "_I think you remember exactly who it was!_"

Shaking her head, she covered her face with her hands and her body began to quake with sobs. Letting out a growl, Gibbs figured it was time to intervene before his senior agent screwed this up further. DiNozzo was typically a level-headed, competent investigator. Unfortunately, the case hiccup that left their youngest agent missing in the field seemed to leave Tony tightly wound.

The team leader stalked out of the viewing room and into interrogation. Motioning DiNozzo out, Tony slunk to the viewing room. Gibbs slid into his seat and stared at Reynolds. Up close, he realized his tired mind had been playing tricks on him. The young woman across the table from him was nothing like the daughter he had loved and lost. He ignored the sobs and took a deliberate sip of his coffee.

Removing her hands from her face, Reynolds looked genuinely shocked as she saw Gibbs across from her. She glanced around the room as if wondering whether Tony had vanished into thin air. Gibbs could imagine his senior field agent laughing in interrogation. Raising his arm, he knew it would serve as a warning for DiNozzo that an impending headslap was coming. _As soon as they were in close quarters..._

Gibbs reached into his case file and placed multiple pictures of Wilkowski's dead body in front of her. "Look at them."

She bit her lip and shook her head. Tears were already running down her face from her closed eyes. "I can't..."

"Yes, you can!" Gibbs snapped, pounding the table. The former Marine visibly jumped and opened her eyes. Quickly scanning the pictures in front of her, she covered her mouth and began to rock in the chair. "The man who raped you in Iraq did the same thing to her." He held up a picture of a lively, smiling Wilkowski. "Then when she was home, he stabbed her and left her to die. You _know_ who did this."

"I can't..." Reynolds hiccuped. "I can't. I can't...he said if I ever told anyone, he'd kill me."

"No, he won't. I can protect you, but I need a name."

Their eyes locked, his hard and hers hysterical. Whoever this person was, he still had considerable power over the young woman. He pushed a pad of paper and a pen towards her. Her lips moved, almost seeming to unload the name of her rapist. To give her peace and safety. A strangled cry escaped her as she began to sob again. "I can't tell you..."

Disgusted, Gibbs kicked his chair back and stormed out of interrogation with his files. DiNozzo met him in the hallway and followed by his side as he stalked to the bullpen. "Now what, boss?"

"Give her some time to think it over. Then _we nail the bastard_."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:07am - Somewhere on 95, heading to Chevy Chase, MD - **

Clutching the bar on the passenger side door, FBI agent Bruce Wayne squeezed his eyes shut as yet another car nearly collided with the Dodge Charger. More squealing tires and a car horn let him know they'd had a near miss. Silently, he promised G-d that if he made it to the pub owner's house in one piece that he'd rediscover his faith and call his parents every weekend. Well, almost every weekend. The car slid around a corner on two wheels as Mossad Liaison Ziva David exited the freeway and headed towards a residential area.

"Whoa! Slow down, man! You're going to kill us!" Wayne exclaimed as David blew through a stop sign, narrowly missing a Ford Explorer.

"Evasive driving is an important part of training for Mossad," Ziva said, matter-of-factly. "I am also not a man."

"We're not being chased!"

"Well, if we had been then I would have lost our tail." Suddenly, the car slammed to a stop and Ziva pulled on the emergency brake, killed the engine and climbed out in one fluid movement.

Closing his open mouth, Wayne slowly pried himself off the seat. It took him several seconds to ease his white-knuckled double handed grip off of the car handle and slid out, thankful to be on solid ground.

"What is taking so long?" Ziva asked, as Wayne meandered up the driveway to the small rancher, where the owner of the 'Founding Fathers' lived.

"Trying to get rid of my sea legs, man" Wayne explained, holding the railing as he climbed the stairs to the front door.

Shooting him a pensive look, Ziva knocked on the door. "Why would you possess sea legs? You are in the FBI and we are not near the ocean. Also, I am still not a man."

Raising his eye brows, Wayne felt confused at her references. He hoped he didn't have some kind of brain injury from his head connected with the window on that sharp turn several miles back. Or perhaps from when she had whacked him hard with that stick in Abby's lab the previous night. Maybe he had developed a concussion from those headshots. Rubbing his injured head, he was about to ask for clarification as Ziva knocked on the door a second time.

Suddenly, an aging, bald man in a pink silk bathrobe answered the door. Mouth open in shock, Wayne pulled out his badge and attempted to regain his composure. "Maurice Zeldnick?" The man blushed fiercely and ducked behind the door, peering his head around.

"Yeah, who's asking?"

"I'm FBI Agent Bruce Wayne and this is NCIS liaison, Ziva David. Do you own the 'Founding Fathers' pub in downtown DC?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"We're investigating a murder and we believe that the victim may have been at your bar right before she died."

Concern passed over Zeldnick's face. "Oh my. What makes you think that?"

Ziva spoke up. "She had a special beer in her stomach. Some kind of monster."

Zeldnick looked at Wayne quizzically and he corrected, "Stomach analysis showed that she had consumed a beer called the 'Loch Ness Monster' before her death. It's our understanding that it's a brew special to your place?"

"Yeah, we brew 'Loch Ness Monster' in house and it's only available in my pub."

"Did you work on Sunday night?" Ziva asked and Zeldnick shook his head. "Do you know who served on Sunday? Perhaps they could identify who she was with."

Brow furrowed in thought, Zeldnick was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I think I know who was waiting tables on Sunday. Let me ask her...yo, Phoebe! Come here!"

Wayne and Ziva shared a questioning look, as they heard footsteps approaching the door. The face of a very young, blonde woman appeared next to Zeldnick's. "Reesie? What's going on?" Wayne attempted to disguise a laugh as a cough and managed to fail spectacularly. When their heads disappeared behind the door to converse, Ziva elbowed Wayne hard in the side. _That would probably leave a mark._

Giggling sounded on the other side of the door and Ziva knocked again. "Excuse us? We are still present. There are still questions."

"Oh yeah," Phoebe said, airily and peered around the corner again. Well, she was good-looking Wayne figured, it didn't mean she had to be a rocket scientist. "Phoebe Daly," she said, holding her hand out to Ziva who shook it.

"So you worked at the 'Founding Fathers' on Sunday night, correct?"

Phoebe nodded. "Yep, waited tables. Made lots of good tips. I can remember lots of stuff."

"Good." Ziva sounded like she was talking to a small child. Pulling a picture of Wilkowski out of her file, she held it up to Phoebe. "Did you serve this woman Sunday night?"

Studying the picture intently, the blonde woman bit her lip and thought hard. "Yep. Cheeseburger, hold the pickles and fries, nachos and two, no wait, three 'Loch Ness Monsters'! See? I told you I could remember lots of stuff." She grinned triumphantly and Wayne resisted the urge to pat her on the head.

"Do you remember who she was with?"

"Ohhh yeah. She looked like she was on a date with this really, really hot blonde guy. They were flirting and he kept leaning over to whisper stuff in her ear and she kept laughing. They seemed happy. He ordered a cheesesteak, extra fries and a cherry coke!"

"Do you remember anything else? Perhaps what time they left?"

Jutting her lip out, Phoebe was obviously thinking hard and Wayne feared the girl may hurt herself. Finally, she shook her head. "I only remember she had the most killer heels on. Five inch stilettos with black patent leather. _Oh my G-d_, I've been trying to find them for - . "

Ziva held her hand up to silence the shoe tirade. If Wayne had to guess, he would bet the farm that Ziva knew nothing about shoes other then sneakers and combat boots. He wondered what she wore on court appearances, probably combat boots under her suit. Ziva held up a picture of Petty Officer Hanrahan. "Was this her date?"

Phoebe nodded._ "_Yeah. He's_ so _hot_."_Unfortunately, she didn't see Zeldnick's upset face behind her.

"One more question, Miss Daly. Was she carrying a purse?"

Thinking hard, she finally shook her head. Both agents thanked the witnesses for their statements and headed back over the lawn to the car. As Ziva pulled out the keys, Wayne started feeling sick to his stomach...

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:28am - unknown location - **

As soon as they had reached the cabin, Stoakes had strong armed McGee back into the folding chair at the card table. Now, the hulking man sat across from him, hand on the gun and staring daggers. It almost seemed that Stoakes thought McGee could rip his cuffs off and break down the wall for another ill-fated escape attempt. What could the agent really do anyway? He was just a hung-over computer geek who hadn't eaten in a day and a half.

His head had been pounding since they returned to the cabin. All the excitement of his run through the woods left him thirsty and exhausted. Maybe he could ask Hanrahan for a couple of ibuprofen. Glancing over at Stoakes, he decided against it.

The petty officer sat next to Stoakes with a laptop in front of him. Occasional clicks, followed by curses rose from the man. A part of McGee wanted to tell him that he was doing it wrong, all wrong. That he could show him how to fix his problems and make his machine run at speeds that would make Hanrahan's head spin. Too bad he couldn't offer a little IT advice for his freedom. Sighing, he slumped forward and put his head on the table.

"We're not boring you, are we?" Stoakes growled. McGee heard the chair move and imagined the man must be standing.

"N-n-n-n-n-o. I'm just a little tired." The agent sat up, forcing a tight smile.

"Well, you try that shit again and you'll be dead. You can sleep then." The words made McGee swallow hard. Leaning uncomfortably back in the chair, his mind whirred and he knew he needed to come up with a plan, _fast_. Riding it out and waiting for his team surely didn't seem like the best situation at the moment.

"A-ha, okay...good," Hanrahan murmured, half to himself and half to the computer. "Relax, Stoakes. Sit down. I need to work with Tim for a moment." The other man did as asked. Hanrahan rose, carrying the computer and placed it in front of McGee. "Okay, Tim, here's what I need you to do. Look at the camera and read this." Pointing to the top of the computer and to an open Word document, he placed a hand on the agent's shoulder. "This is how I need you to help. Tell your friends I didn't do kill Leah and you can go home as soon as they prove it."

Leaning forward, Hanrahan hit the mouse button and the red record button popped on the screen. McGee felt himself look stupidly from the computer to the petty officer, who tapped his back. The agent began to read the typed words aloud. "My name is Special Agent Timothy McGee and I work for NCIS."

He paused for a second, suddenly realizing he was recording his proof of life. Another hard tap from Hanrahan signaled to him to keep reading and he knew the situation could only get worse.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer : Everything within the story remains property of Bellisario and CBS Studios.  
**

**Warnings :** _Mentions of rape__.  
_

**Author's Note** **: **_As always, I'd like to thank everyone who has read, favorited, followed and dropped me PMs about this story. Also, an extra big thanks for everyone who left me reviews. **DS2010, Gottahavemyncis, Rogue Tomato, Precious Pup, PaisleyGibbs, AussieTayla, ytteb, victoriantealady, MsKitty2008** and **charmed4eva112, **I can't tell you how much I appreciate your time to leave a review. _

_Hoping to keep with the three times a week update until we're done. The sooner I get this up, I can focus on the next one.  
_

_For all the questions, answers are coming...soon.  
_

_Let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:32am - Somewhere on 95, heading towards NCIS Headquarters -**

Gripping the passenger side door handle with both hands, Wayne figured the only way to survive Ziva's driving was by squeezing his eyes shut and retreating to "his happy place." If he ignored the car horns and squealing tires, they weren't happening. Ziva was a respectable driver and they had not gone over 55 miles an hour. Yeah, if he kept telling himself that, then it _had _to be true.

"Bruce?" The sound of his name pulled him out of his mind and he opened his eyes. As the trees whizzed past and Ziva weaved between cars, he realized it was a bad idea.

"Yeah, Ziva?"

"You said Tony would be displeased about Hanrahan's date with Wilkowski prior to her death. What did you mean?" A car cut Ziva off and she laid on the horn, causing Wayne to jump.

"We interviewed Wilkowski's squad leader, Mathews. Total slimeball. Tony thinks he killed her and raped Reynolds. Just right now, we don't know how to prove it. It didn't seem like Gibbs was particularly sold on the idea."

"He is divorced, yes?" As Wayne began to speak, Ziva slammed on the brakes and yelled something in Hebrew at a Honda in the next lane. Instead, he nodded and felt his grip tighten on the door. "Then perhaps, we should speak with his ex-wife."

It took a lot of effort for Wayne to release his hands from their death grip on the door handle. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in Tony's number. The other agent answered on the first ring. "DiNozzo."

"Hey man, listen, it's Wayne. Ziva and I are going to interview Mathews' ex-wife. Figured it wouldn't hurt to cover all our bases."

"Yeah." A few taps and clicks could be heard over the line. "Her name's Mariah, lives with their twin girls in Betheseda." He relayed an address over the phone and Wayne did the best he could to copy it as the car pitched dangerously to the right. "Not sure if I told you, but she and Mathews divorced because the dirtbag raped her. Filed a police report, but eventually dropped the charges. The report doesn't say why."

"Thanks, man. I'm gonna go." Another horn sounded and Ziva began to swear again.

"Is Ziva driving?"

"Uh huh." Wayne attempted to sound non-chalant.

"Well, good luck. If you don't make it back, it's been great working with you." DiNozzo cut the call off with a hearty laugh. After Wayne relayed his new-found information to Ziva, she pulled a u-turn in an emergency only lane figuring 'this certainly was an emergency.' Pulling himself into his happy place, Wayne mentally checked out for the rest of the ride. When they arrived at the Mathews' ex-wife's house, he had no idea how long they had been driving.

As he climbed out of the car, Wayne promised himself that he had only one _long _ride back to the Navy Yard. After which he would never, ever get into a moving vehicle with Ziva behind the wheel again. They approached a large stucco colonial with a red door. As they climbed the stairs to the porch, Wayne heard a loud purring sound and felt a cat rubbing against his leg. "Hey there, dude," he said as he stooped over to pet the white Persian. The cat purred louder, leaving long white hairs all over Wayne's black dress pants.

It took three knocks, which were more like pounding, from Ziva before the door opened and a tall redhaired woman appeared. "I see you already met Midnight," she smiled.

"Midnight? The cat is white, should he not be black?" Ziva asked.

"Well, the girls were expecting a black cat but fell in love with the white one. Can I help you guys?"

Reaching into her pocket, Ziva produced her badge. "I am NCIS-Mossad liason Ziva David and this is FBI Agent Bruce Wayne." He flashed his badge and tried to ignore Midnight as the feline continued to rub against his pants. "You are Mariah Mathews, correct?"

"Actually, it's Ross now. I went back to my maiden name after the divorce. What's the bastard done this time?" Her friendly features darkened as she crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame.

"We just have a few questions about your marriage to Staff Sargent Mathews," Ziva stated.

"It was a long time ago and I don't want to talk about it."

"It is difficult to revisit places in our past, but your information would truly help our investigation, ma'am." Wayne smiled warmly, trying to remember where he'd heard those words before. _Oh yeah, he'd totally ripped off a fortune cookie from the other night_. In the end, it didn't matter what he said as long as it helped to persuade the ex-wife to help with their investigation.

Ross looked unconvinced and glanced from Wayne to Ziva. Eventually, she shrugged. "Fine, what do you want to know?"

"Did you ex-husband used to paint?" Glancing over the ex-wife's shoulder, Wayne noticed a large oil painting on the hallway wall that looked similar to the style of the one in Mathews' apartment.

"Still does and he sends the girls home with one every so often. He was a freaking psycho with his art though. He flat out refused to use store bought paint, always had to mix his own. All those chemicals weren't healthy with the girls around."

"Any unusual family collectables or anything?"

"Couple of Civil War items. A canteen, some buttons. Nothing terribly exciting, why?"

"Just curious," Wayne waved his hand to try to to divert the questions. "Any rifles or weapons?" Ross shrugged and Wayne nodded, making notations in his memo pad.

"Now, why did you get divorced if you don't mind me asking, ma'am?" Wayne ventured.

Anxiety washed over Mariah's face before being replaced by raw anger. "Now that, I do mind. My ex-husband may be a bastard, but what happened between us is ancient history. I believe we're done here." Apologetically, Wayne and Ziva supplied their cards and asked for a follow-up phone call. If the slamming red door were any indication, Wayne doubted anything would come to mind.

As they headed back to the car, Ziva looked contemplative. "It seems like there are a lot of women who fear this man."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**1:26pm - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

In the cafeteria, the pizza that sat on the edge of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's desk had called to him. The bubbling cheese and oily pepperoni looked so much more alluring under the heat lamps of the turntable then they did in the dull light of the bullpen. Right now, the pizza looked limp and pathetic. He sighed and numbly took a bite that reminded him of spicy cardboard.

A ding sounded from the elevator and DiNozzo hazarded a glance around the wall from Ziva's desk. Annoyance filled him as he saw Agent Fornell making his way over. "Boss," he alerted Gibbs, who stood and headed over to his desk.

"Tobias." The team leader greeted as the FBI agent entered the bullpen.

"Gibbs. DiNozzo." Feeling confused at the use of his actual name, Tony nodded his hello to Fornell. "Got something interesting from the LEOs in Fort Littleton relating to Agent McGee's disappearance. Thought you might want to see it." Before he could continue, Gibbs was already heading to the elevator. "Where are we going?"

"Abby's lab, most likely. Whatcha got, Fornell?" DiNozzo asked the agent, as they trailed behind Gibbs.

"Ransom demand." No more words were exchanged while the trio headed to Abby's lab. As they exited the elevator, the grinding music pulsated through the hallway. If he hadn't been nervous, Tony might have laughed when Fornell pressed his hands to his ears. Gibbs disappeared into the lab and the music suddenly died. "What the hell was that?"

"Some might argue it's music," Tony offered, pulling his face into a wry smile.

When they entered the lab, Abby was nervously wringing Bert's fur. "I heard you brought me some evidence. Has it been dusted for prints? Are we following the correct chain? Did you interview the person who had it? Are we sure he's not involved in Timmy's," she visibly cringed. "disappearance? Did you - ?"

"Abs," Gibbs said, delicately placing his hand on the goth's shoulder. "I'm sure Fornell has done everything he was supposed to."

"You betcha. Due diligence," Fornell nodded. "This is only a copy anyway. The original is in our lab at Quantico." Wrinkling her nose, Abby muttered something unintelligible and popped the DVD into her computer. A small black window popped up with a play button and Abby administered a few clicks to start the video.

The image in the tiny window showed a seated, harried McGee and a standing Hanrahan, leaning in and pointing to something on the screen. McGee's eyes looked heavy as they flicked between something on the computer to off the screen. If he had to guess, Tony would bet that the junior agent had been drugged. Visibly tense, Hanrahan gave the seated agent a hard push on the shoulder and he started to recite. "My name is Special Agent Timothy McGee and I work for NCIS."

McGee gazed back into the camera, jaw set and eyes grim. If asked later, Tony would swear their eyes actually locked. In the pit of his stomach, a sinking feeling began and the senior field agent knew it threatened to swallow him. Next to him, Abby gave a broken sigh and DiNozzo pulled her close to him, needing the contact of another living person to ground him. His attention was divided between her fragility and the scene playing out on the computer screen.

As the video continued, another shove from Hanrahan prompted McGee to continue reading whatever was written on the screen. "My name is Special Agent Timothy McGee and I work for NCIS," he repeated. "I am making this video to prove that I am alive and unharmed. I will remain this way as - ."

Suddenly, Hanrahan leaned over McGee's shoulder and looked into the camera. "I didn't kill Leah," he cried, as tears began to run down his cheeks. "I _loved _her. We only dated for a few months, but I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I bought a ring. It's in my house. Check in the master bedroom, under the dresser. There's a loose floorboard. As soon as we find out who killed her, I'll let Tim go and surrender." The video window jumped to black.

Silence filled the room and Tony hazarded a glance at his boss. Jaw muscles clenched tightly and eyes murderous, Gibbs continued to stare at the black screen. All the attention in the room seemed to be centered on Gibbs and Tony held his breath, fearing that the noise would distract his boss' brain from working.

"Did he do what I think he did?" Gibbs asked, motioning for Abby to rewind the tape. As she did so, they rewatched the video and Tony couldn't help but notice Abby shut her eyes through the second viewing. Right before the video cut out, McGee gave a barely perceptible tilt of his head forward. "There's someone else there with them."

"We have every reason to believe Hanrahan is working alone," Fornell stated, challenging Gibbs. "What makes you think there's another person there?" Ignoring both of them, Abby fiddled with her computer and appeared to be running some kind of scan. Tony looked over her shoulder, but he had no idea what was she was going. He just need something to focus on something other then the burning in his stomach; the nausea that threatened to spill over.

"Because he's pointing to both of them. One behind, one in front." Gibbs mimicked McGee's motion. "We find that other person, we find McGee."

Looking thoughtful for several moments, Fornell nodded. "That's an angle we haven't looked into yet. We've been operating on the thought that Hanrahan was working alone. But it would make sense that he had help. I'm going to head back to Quantico to see what's going on. Did Reynolds talk yet?"

_Oh yeah. _Tony unconsciously rubbed the back of his head, as he had forgotten about the woman hunkered down in interrogation who refused to provide crucial information. "Waiting for her to soften up," Gibbs offered.

"You mean she's holed up in interrogation, refuses to talk and you're oh - " Fornell dramatically checked his watch. "an hour away from threatening to charge her with obstruction of justice?" Letting out a laugh, Tony glanced over at Abby who was still typing madly away and he wasn't sure which display was more interesting. Playfully, he tapped her shoulder to try to defuse the anxiety she must be feeling over the McGee situation. But she ignored him.

Gibbs shrugged and Fornell continued. "Well, how's Wayne working out?" Again, Gibbs shrugged, which Tony knew was a seal of approval. The very fact that Wayne was still allowed to wander the hall of NCIS with his visitor's badge spoke volumes of how the team leader felt about him. In lieu of the Probie, Wayne was the honorary third member of the team.

"Okay, well I'm off to Quantico. Did you copy that file to the computer Abby? I need to take the disc back with me." Holding out his hand, Fornell clutched the jewel case for the disc in the other.

"Sure," Abby grinned, nonchalantly. Hadn't Abby just been upset a few minutes ago? Tony had a sneaking suspicion that something was going on. Holding out the CD, the goth caught her foot around Tony's ankle and tripped. On her way down, she reached out for her lab table and pulled a sheet of lab paper that sent pipets, toys, CDs and random trinkets crashing to the floor with her.

Fornell let out a gasp and Tony put his arms out, but didn't manage to catch her. Reaching down, he pulled her to her feet. "Are you okay, Abby?"

Laughing, she nodded, smoothed her dress and handed Fornell a CD. "You sure you're okay, Miss Scuito?" he asked her, as she averted her eyes and nodded. "Gibbs, can I have a word?"

Both men walked out of the lab, leaving Tony and Abby alone. Hopping over to the computer, Abby pulled a CD out her lab jacket and grinned at the senior agent triumphantly. Not having any clue what she was doing, Tony raised his eyebrows. "I don't follow."

"This isn't a copy," she said. "It's the original. Now that Fornell's gone, I can track who made the recording. Though he does owe me a new copy of the most recent _Plasticized Death_ CD."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**2:31pm - Forensics Lab - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC - **

Spinning. His head was spinning and it was not from the bone thumping music that filled the lab. Tony had _no _idea what was going on as he watched Abby type frantically at her keyboard. "Did you run the finger print search yet?" She froze, mid-keystroke, and looked at him poignantly.

"Yeah," he said, intently watching as his fingerprint search ran through AFIS and whatever other databases Abby had set up for. Seven unique finger prints had been present on the CD. Already in the list was a gruff-looking Fornell, two lab techs at Quantico, and a deputy from Fort Littleton. "What have you found?"

"You see this?" she asked, as she showed a short clip of the video and pointed to a few black spots present in the feed. "Those are missing pixels. Every camera has certain pixels that are not functional and they become like a fingerprint that's unique to the camera. All I have to do is isolate this camera's fingerprint and run it against videos on social media sites like Facebook or YouTube. Then we'll get lucky and find who owns the camera and find Timmy."

"_If we get lucky,_" Tony said darkly. Ignoring him, Abby continued to do something on her computer. Another hit pinged on his fingerprint search and a young, darkhaired woman in glasses popped up. "Got something!"

Leaning over, Abby brushed up against DiNozzo. "That's just me," she sighed, defeated. He raised his eyebrows, while she played with one of her pigtails. "That was before Gibbs threatened the old director to give me an exception on the dress code. Hey Tony, could you get me the coordinates of Fort Littleton so I can borrow a satellite?"

"Uh...Abs, I'm not sure."

"That's okay," she said, as she hugged him. "Tell Gibbs that I need Ziva." Nodding, Tony started out of the lab. As he passed the threshold of the door, Abby said quietly enough that he scarcely heard. "Please just bring him home..."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer : I still own nothing.  
**

**Author's Note :** _As always, thank you to everyone reading, favoriting and following this story. Also, a big thanks to **Gottahavemyncis, PaisleyGibbs, camry72, Precious Pup, victoriantealady, diana teo, **and **ytteb **for taking the time to review. I appreciate hearing your thoughts on the story. _

_New NCIS tonight! Fingers crossed we get something a bit better then the premiere.  
_

_To everyone wondering if Gibbs feels guilty, he does. Takes him a little while to express it.  
_

_That's it from me. Let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**2:48pm - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC - **

Stepping off the elevator, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo trudged back to his desk. Mind turning, he debated telling Gibbs about the CD Abby had "borrowed" from the FBI. His focus was redirected by the animated conversation taking place in the bullpen. "..._but the cat is white_," Ziva stated, sounding frustrated. The emotion in her usually reserved voice surprised him.

"It's funny, okay? A white cat named Midnight is cute. Dude, _don't think so hard!_" FBI Agent Bruce Wayne countered, one hand on the side of his head. Standing with his back to Gibbs' desk, he did not see the angry look cross over the former Marine's face. Before Tony had a chance to warn him, Gibbs shot to his feet and landed a hard smack on the back of the FBI agent's head. Shock passed over Wayne's face as his hand moved to rub the back of his head. Tony shook his head at Wayne, who glanced to him for direction.

"Somebody tell me _something," _Gibbs growled, his blue eyes flicking over the three agents who were scattered around the bullpen.

"We talked to Mathews' ex-wife, Mariah Ross," Ziva volunteered. "She was less then helpful. Although, she did confirm Mathews possess some heirlooms from the American Civil War. Also, the way she did not want to speak of her divorce, perhaps this means she fears something."

"Or we pissed her off," Wayne offered, shaking his head. "We really did need her help." Gibbs stared him down, prompting him to continue. "Ziva and I also caught up with the guy who owns the 'Founding Fathers.' The waitress who served Wilkowski on the night of her death confirmed that she was with Hanrahan. She also confirmed the contents of her stomach."

"It seems the petty officer might be responsible for her death after all."

Gibbs turned his attention to the plasma, where a pictures of Hanrahan, Mathews and Wilkowski started back. Shaking his head, his brow furrowed. Eyes fixed on Mathews' picture, he said to himself. "Let's nail the bastard."

Ziva and Wayne headed back to their respective desks, when Tony broke in. "Uh, boss? Abby needs Ziva down in the lab. Something computer-y. I got voted off the island."

After a quick glance between the team leader and Mossad liaison, she slipped away to Abby's lair. Just as Tony started to settle into his desk, Gibbs glanced up from his paperwork. "DiNozzo, Wayne. Don't get comfortable. Go find that ring so we can confirm Hanrahan's story."

Wayne re-entered the bullpen, one hand still rubbing the back of his head where he'd been hit. "Ring? Story?" Confused, he looked to Gibbs and was ignored. He glanced to Tony and as the two left the bullpen, he whispered. "Dude, how hard did he hit me?"

"C'mon Batman, I'll get you caught up in the car."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:18pm - Somewhere outside Fort Littleton, PA - **

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

As Special Agent Timothy McGee began to wake from breakfast, he was greeted by another pounding head. He opened his eyes, allowing the bright afternoon sunlight to burn his retinas. Letting out a low moan, he slammed his eyelids closed. Remembering the events of the morning, he cringed at his ill-fated jaunt through the forest and the proof of life video he'd recorded. At least, Hanrahan had seen fit to feed him again. Even though it'd meant being drugged a second time.

_Had his team gotten the video yet? _

Opening his eyes again, he focused on the room around him. No longer in the privacy of the mudroom, he was laying on the ground in a corner of the main living area. A beat-up couch sat on the far wall and a once-white recliner was in front of him. Gathering his bearings, the agent noted his hands were handcuffed behind him and his ankles were now tied together.

While he lay taking in the situation, he felt footsteps on the floor approaching him. Relaxing and evening his breathing, he pretended to still be asleep.

"...over with," Stoakes was ending.

"No way, Michael. If you want out, I'll give you my account number. Take the money," Hanrahan stated, sounding tense.

"Look, Joey. It's not about the ten grand. You kidnapped a _fed. _You neglected to mention that little fact when you called me for help. He's seen our faces and he can ID us. Let's just get rid of him and call it a wash."

"I don't _kill _people!" Hanrahan growled and McGee started to feel uneasy.

Letting out a sigh, Stoakes paused for several seconds. McGee hazarded a slid-eyed survey to confirm he wasn't approaching with a gun. Not that it would matter anyway. "I'm going for a smoke. Think it over," Stoakes finally said, his heavy feet thudding out of the room.

McGee felt Hanrahan's lighter footfalls move across the room and heard him sink into the recliner. "I know you're awake," the petty officer said, a few feet away.

_Damn. Busted. _

Opening his eyes, McGee struggled to pull himself into a sitting position and leaned against the closest wall. He felt sluggish and half-baked. Attempting to quash the anxiety that ran rampant in his stomach, he met Hanrahan's eyes. Guilt passed over the Navyman's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I just - . " he sighed, resigned. "I wasn't lying when I said I'd let you go when they found Leah's killer. I didn't kill her and I just - . I just couldn't let her killer go free." He looked away. "I know I'm going to jail for this and that's okay. I've accepted it."

McGee nodded, not quite sure what to do next. "Yeah. But now what?"

The other man pressed his lips together and his eyes turned thoughtful. "I don't know yet. You're going to have to trust me."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:29pm- Forensics Lab - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

Music pumped through her speakers and Abby Scuito felt herself dancing as she typed. Everything was in order and all her babies were churning away. Leaning over, she pulled a deep swig of her closest CafPow and let out a contented sigh at its smooth, fruity flavor.

"Aha, come to momma," she murmured to herself as she commandeered a satellite from her friends at the FBI. All she needed was five minutes, a quick sweep of Central Pennsylvania and no one would be any the wiser. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for, but was certain she'd know when she saw it. Plugging in the coordinates she'd cross-referenced, she let the satellite scan and start downloading to her computer.

Somewhere on the other side of the lab, something started beeping and pleading for her attention. As soon as she started to head over, another one of her babies began beeping on her main lab bench. Turning quickly, she collided with a solid body and let out a scream.

"Abby." Ziva elbowed the goth's arm. "You asked me to come. Were you not expecting me?"

"I was and I am," Abby said, talking quickly as she moved across the lab, silencing her machines. "I just didn't know what happened to you. I sent Tony up a while ago and wasn't sure when you were - ."

Holding up a PowBerry CafPow and a paper cup with a tea string hanging out of it, Ziva smiled. "I thought you might need provisions. But I see you are well stocked."

"Put it over there by Major Mass Spec, I'll need it when I'm on that side of the room. Maybe I should tell Gibbs that he should bring me," she stopped, counting on her hands. "five CafPows for every major case. That way I have one in every important part of the lab, so I don't have to walk _all _the way back to the main lab bench."

Amused, Ziva glided to the main lab bench and placed the drinks down. "I will inform Gibbs. Now what do you need from me?"

Fiddling with the farthest machine, Abby made a few notes on her notebook and moved to the main bench to check her other machine. "Ziva, why are your pants covered in white fur?" She asked absently.

"An inappropriately named cat."

"Oh my gosh. Oh Ziva. Oh Ziva," she grabbed a pair of forceps and an evidence bag from the table. Plucking a few hairs from Ziva's pants and placing it in the bag, she nearly shouted. "There were long, white cat hairs on Leah Wilkowski's pants!"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:51pm - Somewhere on 95, heading towards Chevy Chase, MD -**

"But it's all circumstantial. It will never stand up in court. Man, this sucks," Wayne said morosely as he settled back in the passenger seat of the Charger. "If we go by evidence, Hanrahan looks like our man. He was the last one to be seen with Wilkowski alive. Plus he abducted McGee. Looks open and shut to me."

Feeling irritated, Tony clenched the steering wheel as he exited the highway. He wasn't sure if it was the construction that had slowed their trip, the stale smell of eggroll that seemed to be imbedded in the car or the slowness of their cases. "But I _know_ it was Mathews."

"What's telling you that, man? Your crystal ball?"

DiNozzo steered the Charger off the main road and through a few back roads before pulling up in front of Joseph Hanrahan's modest rancher. Turning off the engine and climbing out into the cool autumn afternoon air, Tony looked over the car at the tall agent. "If Hanrahan did kill her, why take McGee and then ask us to prove he didn't do it?"

"I don't know, man. Hanrahan looks pretty damn guilty to me though. But if you think Mathews killed her, then let's prove it."

Crossing the lawn in silence, they climbed the stairs to the front door when Tony finally felt the need to break it. "Any word from your boss about McGee?"

Face grim, Wayne shook his head and glanced out at the car. "Fornell told me he'd call as soon as he had something concrete."

Tony checked the door and found it locked behind the caution tape. "No news. No leads." Anger burning inside him, the agent reeled back his leg and landed a solid kick against the door that sent it slamming against the wall.

"Uhh...we could have just gotten a key from Fornell."

Narrowing his eyes at Wayne, DiNozzo limped into the house feeling pain from the kick in his left knee. "It's unlocked now."

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Wayne asked, following Tony through the hallway and into the area of the house with the bedrooms.

"The ring Hanrahan bought for Wilkowski." Still limping slightly, DiNozzo headed into the only part of the house that was neat and orderly. He headed to the corner where the smallest dresser stood and pushed it roughly aside. As Wayne watched, he pulled on a pair of gloves, dropped to his knees and started pushing on the floorboards. One popped up and Tony pulled it out of the floor. Reaching into the hole, he pulled out a small, white leather box.

Flipping open the box, Tony gaped at the sheer size of the ring. "Holy shit," Wayne said, quietly. "That's over two carats." The other agent shot him a questioning glance. "My grandfather was a jeweler. Spent a lot of time in his shop as a kid. But in all honesty, that is an expensive ring."

DiNozzo stood and deposited the ring into an evidence bag. "So what do you think now?"

Shooting him a thumbs up, Wayne grinned. "Good job, Boy Wonder. Maybe that gut of yours is onto something."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer : I still own nothing.  
**

**Warnings :** _Mentions of rape. Nothing graphic. __  
_

**Author's Note** **: **_As always, huge thanks to everyone who has favorited and followed this story so far. Thank you to all of you who are still reading. Big thanks to **DS2010, ytteb, Precious Pup, PaisleyGibbs, charmed4eva112, **and **vict****oriantealady. **I appreciate the continued support. Also, I did tweak the story in a couple of spots based on some suggestions in the reviews/PMs, so thank you all for some ideas that have helped this story improve. __  
_

_I think I'm finally done editing/improving the story so I'll stick with the three weekly updates until it's done. There's going to be 5 more after this, plus an epilogue.  
_

_Answers are starting in this chapter. Also, times are only approximates but the overall amount of time between scenes does decrease because a lot of things start happening.  
_

_Let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:02pm - Autopsy - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

Humming quietly to himself, Assistant Medical Examiner Jimmy Palmer was engrossed in suturing the body of Autopsy's most recent guest. A young ensign, not much older then Jimmy, whose mysterious demise had been investigated by Agent Stetson's team. Sadly, Dr. Donald Mallard's findings concluded the man's end occurred by his own hand, rather then foul play. Now, no further investigation was to be taken and the ensign would take residency in the autopsy's freezers until his body was released to his parents. This allowed the medical examiner to complete the routine paperwork and afforded Palmer some experience in suturing. Set to begin the interviewing process for medical school, any hands-on time gave the assistant a rush of excitement.

As Jimmy cut off the suture needle and began cleaning the body, he heard the phone in Dr. Mallard's office ring. Ignoring the low ramblings of the aging doctor, he continued to mind his business and tidy up.

"Mr. Palmer!"

"Yes doctor?" Jimmy called, as he pulled off his autopsy gown and deposited in the nearest biohazard bin.

"Gibbs needs you upstairs, Mr. Palmer."

"Gibbs? Me? _Upstairs?"_ He squeaked, sounding horrible to his own ears. Gesturing to the body and assorted medical instruments strewn nearby, he offered meekly. "I have to put the body away and clean."

"That work can wait, my dear boy. It did sound extremely urgent that you assist him."

Mouth suddenly dry, Jimmy nodded silently and headed through the double doors to the elevator. With his heart pounding in his ears, he rode the elevator up to the level of the breathing and _the agents_. As the door clicked open, he found himself frozen as he watched the agents mulling around the cubicles. If he weren't so afraid of why Gibbs called for him, he would have laughed at how much he'd rather be down among the dead then upstairs with the living.

Breathing shallowly, he slunk against the wall and entered the bullpen. Moving anxiously, he paused in front of Gibbs' desk and pulled at his scrubs. As the team leader silently reviewed two thick case files, Jimmy internally debated at the best way to get the other man's attention. At the moment, Gibbs did not seem particularly intimidating and Jimmy cleared his throat. Smiling at Gibbs, he had not expected the piercing blue eyes to meet his, staring him down. Okay, he had been really wrong about how scary the agent was. _The man was absolutely terrifying._

"You wanted to see me, Agent Gibbs?" Jimmy asked, voice cracking. He cringed and prayed the agent hadn't noticed.

"Palmer, with me." Gibbs motioned for the autopsy gremlin to follow.

As Gibbs started to move from his desk, Jimmy glanced around the bullpen. Noting the absence of the team, he wondered where they were. He knew McGee had been abducted a day earlier and that left him unsettled. Out of the team, Tim was the closest to a friend that the agents came. But what about DiNozzo and Ziva? Had Gibbs disposed of them for inefficiency? Swallowing hard, he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Wh-wh-where is everyone, Gibbs?" A withering stare from in front silenced him quickly.

With Gibbs speed walking in the lead and Jimmy close behind, they made their way to the interrogation rooms. Stopping in front of the first door, Gibbs gripped the door handle as Jimmy readied to follow him inside. "What the hell are you doing, Palmer?"

"Following you. Like you asked. Gibbs. Errrr...sir?"

Face screwed in disgust, Gibbs pointed to the observation room door. "Other room. You're the witness." With that, he entered interrogation and slammed the door in Jimmy's face.

Pit in his stomach, he scrambled to the observation room door and wondered what he was about to witness. Perhaps it was to confirm that Gibbs hadn't killed anyone in his interrogation room. _There was no saying for sure._ Taking a few seconds to survey the scene, a young woman sat at the table facing the glass. Tears freely ran down her face as she shook her head, a tense smile pulled on her lips. "I was beginning to think you forgot about me."

Gibbs sat down and opened his case file. After a small pause, he pulled out a few pictures and slammed each one down individually. "Who did this, Reynolds?" Unable to see exactly what the images were, Jimmy assumed them to be crime scene pictures of Leah Wilkowski.

Shaking her head again, the young woman looked towards the door. "I already told you. I can't tell you. He'll kill me too."

For several quiet minutes, Gibbs simply sat and watched the young woman. Paralyzed by awe, Jimmy could scarcely breathe. He wondered who would be the first one to break the silence. Knowing this game from a conversation he once had about Gibbs' interrogation with DiNozzo, the first person to speak always lost. From what Palmer knew about Gibbs, he figured the man could sit for hours until the other person broke down.

Suddenly, Reynolds began to speak. "You know, Agent Gibbs, I was a virgin before I was raped. Spent my whole life waiting for my wedding. Well, that never happened. That man caused me to lose everything. My fiance. My faith. My corps. He took _everything _away from me."

Picking up the picture of a smiling young woman, Gibbs held it up for Reynolds to see. "Wrong. He took everything away from _her._" The young woman buried her face in her hands and began to sob. Reaching across the table, the agent placed a hand on her arm. "Man up, Marine," he said, voice surprisingly gentle.

She let out a small laugh and pulled her hands away. "Is that meant to be a joke, Agent Gibbs? A man destroyed our lives. Try being one of a few women stuck in the desert with a bunch of immature _boys_. My girls and I used to tell each other to 'woman up'..." Her voice trailed off, face wistful at some buried memory.

"Tell me his name. Tell me what happened," Gibbs urged. Unable to see his face, Palmer imagined his features tense and far from comforting.

"You'll protect me?" Gibbs nodded and she continued. "I was heading back to the barracks after dinner when I was grabbed from behind." Tears welled in the corner of Reynolds' eyes, but she went on in a voice that sounded removed and distant. "He raped me, told me he'd kill me if I told anyone. After it was over, the bastard took my boots and I had to use my spares. I wigged out. Got shipped back to the States. Tried to kill myself when I got home...that's what got me booted from the corps."

"Who was it?"

Astounded, Jimmy held his breath and waited as the scene unfolded. Reynolds inhaled deeply, pain etched on her face. In the exhalation, her fragility seemed to leave her body and her features set in determination. Eyes burning with hatred, she levied her gaze at Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs. The man who raped me was one of the squad leaders. Zeke Mathews."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:38pm - Somewhere on I-95, Heading towards NCIS Headquarters -**

Hands on the wheel of the Charger, Tony DiNozzo ground his teeth in frustration. Despite their best efforts to return to NCIS headquarters before the end of a conventional work day, he and Bruce Wayne were stuck in rush hour traffic. For a brief moment, he allowed his brain to indulge in a fantasy of normal working hours and an early night at home. He wondered how many movies he could watch, how normal his life could be. _If only he had more time._

In the passenger seat, Wayne gazed out the window, lost in thought.

Frustration coursed through Tony's veins as traffic crawled. No one else on the road knew how perilous their situation was. The team was racing to close a murder case, while pretending to not be involved in an important case involving a missing team member. Oh hell, _his missing partner_. How he longed for his old patrol car when he was a uniformed LEO in Peoria. To flip on the siren and _make traffic move _for him like Moses parting the Red Sea. Why the hell didn't NCIS have a siren on his car? Perhaps he could convince Bruce to hang out the window and make siren noises to get the car moving. Sighing, he slammed on the brakes again and fumed at the tractor trailer in front of them.

"Hey Tony," his companion asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "do you ever wonder what it would be like?"

"What do you mean, Wayne?" The car crawled a few more inches before stopping.

"To actually get to leave work at a normal time? To go home and actually relax? To not be on call or put our lives on the line every day? Look at what happened to your partner..."

Mulling over the FBI agent's words, DiNozzo paused for several seconds. "McGee knew the risks when he accepted the job. We all know that every time we grab our gun and badge, we might not be coming home alive. It comes with the territory. Tell me, Wayne, how does it feel when you arrest someone?"

As Bruce turned this attention to the NCIS agent, Tony attempted to change lanes and got flipped off in the process. "Like I made a difference. I feel like I'm changing the world, one small step at a time."

Motioning with his hands, DiNozzo pointed towards people in the surrounding car as he finally changed lanes. "How many of these people do you think feel the same way you do?"

Before Wayne could answer, DiNozzo's phone rang loudly. Fumbling with the steering wheel as traffic began to flow again, it took some time before he answered. "DiNozzo," he said, not checking the caller ID.

"Took ya long enough, DiNozzo." An angry voice growled over the line.

"Oh - hey boss. What's up? Wayne and I are - ."

"Reynolds talked. Go pick up Mathews."

"Sounds good. We'll - ," Tony started, but the line clicked dead. Letting out a sigh, he flipped the phone closed.

"Man of few words, huh?" Wayne asked and DiNozzo gave a nod. "So what's the plan?"

"Well, Reynolds finally gave up Mathews as her attacker. So we're going to go pick him up and take him back to NCIS."

Driving a few miles out of the way, DiNozzo found a turnaround for authorized vehicles and made a U-turn to head back in the opposite direction towards Mathews' apartment.

Wayne started chuckling to himself and Tony glanced at him with raised eyebrows. "You know if Ziva were driving, she would have driven over the grass median, taken out a few cars and been at the apartment by now." Both men laughed, helping them ease back into their less serious relationship. "So what's it like, Robin? Working for Gibbs?"

Not wanting to even touch that loaded question, Tony bounced it back to Wayne. "What's it like working for Fornell, Batman?"

Screwing his animated features into a scowl, Wayne pushed his light blonde hair back to reveal his forehead. In his best impression of Fornell's humorless voice, he said flatly. "Will you please stop calling me dude, young man?"

Both agents laughed as Bruce regaled Tony with stories of Fornell until they reached the apartment of Zeke Mathews.

"Ready?" DiNozzo asked, as he turned the car off. Nodding, Wayne looked towards the building with darkened eyes. "Then let's go."

Walking in silence, they made their way to Mathews' apartment. When they arrived at the front door, DiNozzo raised his hand to knock on the door but Wayne beat him to it. He pounded his arm against the door and bellowed, "Mathews! Open the damn door! FBI!"

Finally the door opened and an angry looking Mathews stepped out. "Keep it down. You're going to piss my neighbors off. Didn't I tell you two to leave me alone before?"

Before Wayne could speak, Tony stepped forward with his handcuffs in his hand. "Actually, you told us you weren't going anywhere unless you were under arrest. Well, you're under arrest for the rape of Elyse Reynolds and the murder of Leah Wilkowski. You have the right..." As DiNozzo secured the cuffs on Mathews' wrists and recited his Miranda rights, he knew he was changing the world. When his eyes met Wayne's, he knew the FBI agent was thinking the exact same thing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer : I still own nothing. **

**Author's Note** : _As always, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and favorited this story since I last updated. I'm still amazed by the response this story has gotten so far. Also, a huge thanks to **ytteb, Gottahavemyncis, RJane's Vindication, victoriantealady, **and **jmsings. **I appreciate the reviews and I love seeing thoughts on the story as we progress. _

_I took liberties on finger print analysis, so please look past it if you are familiar with the science.  
_

_Action starts to pick up a bit next chapter.  
_

_Well, let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5.18pm - Outside Fort Littleton, PA -**

Leaning against the wall in the corner, Special Agent Timothy McGee had spent the afternoon listening to a football game on the crackly radio with his captors. His arms ached from the limited movement and he wasn't sure when he lost sensation in them. The only bright spot of his situation seemed to be that his muddled brain was clearing and he'd been able to survey the situation better.

Sitting on the couch and clutching the only gun in the house, Stoakes loomed quietly, face pensive. On the other side of the room, Hanrahan had sat in the aging recliner rocking it slowly for hours. The dull thud of the back tapping the wall had pounded its way through McGee's head. Though he wasn't about to ask him to stop for fear that Stoakes may shoot either one of them to maintain the quiet tension.

Mind spinning, McGee had spent hours trying to figure out the best way to extricate himself from the situation. Unfortunately, there seemed no better option then probably trusting his abductor this point. Or he could wait for his team to rescue him. That seemed like a good back-up plan. Leaning his head against the wall, his gaze focused on the tree branches visible from the window. The evening light was fading quickly.

Hanrahan stood suddenly and Stoakes jumped up, gun trained on him instantly. "Whoa, Michael! What the hell is that all about? I'm just going to get food for Tim." Nodding, he lowered the gun and narrowed his eyes at McGee, who swallowed hard.

As he disappeared into the kitchen, Hanrahan's sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor. McGee's gaze followed him and he felt uneasy at being left alone with Stoakes. The most recent display only confirmed his suspicions that Stoakes was becoming more jumpy and therefore, unpredictable. It was evident that a power shift occurred and Stoakes was now the man in charge.

A few minutes later, Hanrahan reappeared and made his way over to McGee. Pulling out a knife, Hanrahan cut the bindings on the agent's ankles and then released the handcuffs. McGee sighed as he let out a long stretch that allowed his tight muscles to relax. As he stood, he rubbed his wrists and attempted to regain sensation in his hands. Stoakes made to get off the couch, but Hanrahan held his hand up. "_I _got this."

Giving the visibly ill McGee a visual once-over, Stoakes appeared to deem him no threat as he settled back into the couch.

With a firm push on his shoulder, Hanrahan led the agent to the bathroom for a quick stop and then to the card table. The dining room table was set for a classless feast with some sort of sandwich on white bread, ruffled potato chips and a glass of water. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, McGee settled into the folding chair. He was thankful the two still saw fit to feed him and for the small luxuries like an actual chair. Picking up the sandwich, he took a bite and forced himself to swallow the mysterious meat product. "Spam?" he asked, conversationally.

Hanrahan smiled humorlessly at him and nodded.

Both ate in silence and McGee finished his meal first. Reaching out, he picked up the clear liquid and checked over his shoulder. He dropped his voice. "Do you have a plan?" The silence and Hanrahan's averted gaze gave him his answer.

He let out a resigned sigh and Hanrahan looked at the floor. "This is drugged, isn't it?" Hanrahan locked eyes with him and nodded slowly. "Why?"

"He'll kill me if I don't. I just - . I just need some time to figure out how to get us out of here alive. Just drink it. _Please_." Hanrahan's voice was thick with desperation and McGee could see it in his eyes.

While Hanrahan worked through his food, McGee held the glass of water in his hand and debated what to do. Trusting Hanrahan to figure out a plan didn't seem like the best idea, but he was still in no condition to fight Stoakes. What choice did he have? If Hanrahan wasn't willing to fight with him, odds are he was as good as dead. Choosing to maintain status quo, McGee finished the liquid in one swallow. _Maybe it would keep him alive for a few hours and give the team more time. They were coming, they just had to be.  
_

When finished, Hanrahan rose to lead Tim back to the living room. McGee waited a split second to enjoy the feeling of an actual chair. When he stood, he gave another long stretch and felt suddenly light headed. As Hanrahan reached out to help steady him, the agent squeezed his arm and whispered, "I trust you."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:42pm - Forensics Lab - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

The sucking noise of the forensic scientist attempting to pull the last drop of CafPow out of its container cut through Ziva and she flinched. "Abby! There is no more left."

Sighing, the goth put the cup on the lab bench. "I know. Just getting that last drop out makes me think better. I don't know what else to do. We got ten out of eleven matches. Those are good odds, if we were playing the lottery. If we had played the powerball, you and I would be millionaires. Then we could retire early. But I would probably work._ I think I'd go crazy if_- ."

"Abby!" Placing a hand on her shoulder, the Israeli quieted the rambling scientist. "If we start at the beginning, perhaps we can find something we missed?" Pulling back, Abby looked into Ziva's dark eyes. There was no arguing with the assassin's levelheadedness.

She inhaled deeply, picked up the empty CafPow cup and wrapped her lips around the straw. Before she could remove the last drop, Ziva deftly removed it from her grasp and hurled it into the nearest biohazard box. "Now, you owe me a CafPow." The scientist pointed an accusatory finger at the other woman, who simply shrugged. "Okay, starting over..._again. _We know that Leah Wilkowski was stabbed with a bayonet, likely from a Civil War era rifle based on the chemical analysis of the debris in the wounds. Based on trajectory, her killer is right handed and 4 - 8 inches taller then her. So likely, five-foot eight to six-foot. She had linseed oil on her leg, a few drops of type A blood in her wounds, and white cat hairs on her leg. The blood sample wasn't big enough for a match but I did a DNA-type on the cat hair. As soon as I'm done my PCR on the cat hairs from _your _pants, I can compare and make sure they're from the same cat."

"So our suspect would be a right-handed man of average height, with type A blood, who paints and has close exposure to a white cat. He would also have access to a Civil War weapon, correct?"

Nodding, Abby looked wistfully at the trashcan across the room. "Not just any cat. A Persian with a pedigree that would make Dr. No proud." She pulled Bert off the bench, held him like the famous villain and began to stroke him. Ignoring the confused look from Ziva, the scientist suddenly wished she hadn't banished Tony back to the bullpen. He would have appreciated the movie reference.

"Any progress on McGee? We have not heard from Fornell for some time," Ziva asked, concern edging into her typically controlled voice.

Reaching over to her monitor, Abby brought up a picture of the missing agent and relit her Bunsen burner. "Nothing from Fornell here either. Only progress I made was matching the finger prints on the CD. Still haven't ID'd that last one. The last one is match for the one on the pot bag in Hanrahan's house. The print's a little better than the one on the pot bag, so I ran it against my six-hundred-and-eight-one prints from the first search. It narrowed the suspect pool down to forty six people. I e-mailed my findings to the FBI's lab and haven't heard anything back. I know the director ordered me to stop working on the case, but I'm going to work through them by hand. I just can't wait for someone else to find Timmy..."

A quiet chinking of ice against a plastic cup made both women visibly jump. "Gibbs!" Abby exploded as she saw the team leader standing in the doorway, holding a CafPow. "I should have known you'd come since I had something! How long have you been there? How much did you hear?"

"All of it, Abs." As he entered the lab, he passed her the drink and placed a small kiss on her cheek. "You double check those prints. _Now_. DiNozzo and Wayne are bringing in a suspect. David, with me." With a determined smile, Ziva turned and followed the team leader out of the lab.

Abby pulled a long, refreshing sip out of her fresh CafPow. Nothing compared with the drink when it was right out of the machine. Casting a glance to the picture on her computer, she rolled up the sleeves to her lab coat and got to work.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:10pm - Viewing Room - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

Arms crossed, Gibbs studied the man on the other side of the glass. With his crew cut and hard features, SSgt. Zeke Mathews looked like a jarhead that had seen too much time in the desert. Appearing troubled, the Marine sat unmoving at the table with his hands crossed.

The door opened and DiNozzo popped his head in. "Boss? You wanted to see me?"

Not taking his eyes off the suspect, Gibbs ordered. "Go find me something to nail the bastard. Take Wayne with you."

"On it." With that, the head disappeared and the team leader continued staring down the unaware suspect.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:48pm - Mathews' Apartment, Silver Spring, MD -**

As soon as Tony got back to the bullpen to collect FBI Agent Bruce Wayne, their food order of fried chicken had arrived. To his dismay, Wayne had insisted on consuming his bucket of chicken and side of collared greens on the car ride. Even though NCIS had a strict policy on eating food in its vehicles, DiNozzo could not justify denying the agent dinner since he had skipped lunch. Well, Wayne had whined there was no way he could eat lunch after a morning with Ziva behind the wheel...

They entered Mathews' small apartment with a key from the super and pulled on their gloves. "Should we split up, man?"

Shaking his head, Tony decided they should stick together and comb the apartment. Moving swiftly, they cleared out the kitchen and living room area, turning up nothing. "So," DiNozzo asked, breaking the silence, "has your team made any breakthrough on McGee's case?"

Both agents moved into the bedroom section of the studio and began opening the Marine's drawers. "Fornell said he'd call when he got a lead."

Frustrated, Tony rifled through the contents of Mathews' clothes and began dumping them on the floor. He slammed the drawer closed so hard the dresser connected with the wall, sounding with a dull thud. "We're closing in on the 48." DiNozzo said quietly, referencing the first 48 hours that is most important in a disappearance. After the first two days, the odds of recovering a captive alive plummeted. Averting his eyes, Wayne nodded grimly.

As Tony pulled out the next drawer, he rifled through the contents and dropped them to the floor. Pushing it closed, the dresser connected with the wall eliciting another dull thud. "Did you hear that?" Wayne shook his head and DiNozzo began tapping on the wall with his fist. "Sounds like it's hollow back there." Pulling back his arm, the senior agent punched the drywall, following through with the strike like Gibbs had taught him. His arm buried into the wall up to his elbow.

Pointing at the hole, Wayne's mouth gaped open. "Whoa, Tony. You destroyed the wall." After his stunt in the bathroom yesterday, the director had mentioned counseling and potentially some "mental health days off." Destroying a suspect's apartment was definitely not going to help his case to avoid the "crazy holiday." Though DiNozzo just knew _something_ was there

"Help me move this." Tony ordered, grabbing one end of the dresser as Wayne grabbed the other. The long, low dresser slid easily and Tony allowed Wayne do most of the work, watching as the younger agent turned red faced.

Standing to the side and flexing his hand, DiNozzo permitted Wayne to inspect the damage. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, Tony," the FBI agent called out in alarm. "Tony."

"What is it, Wayne?"

"Oh, shit man. Shit."

"Spit it out."

Pounding on what looked like a fake piece of drywall with the butt of his flashlight, Wayne enlarged Tony's hole. Intrigued, DiNozzo approached and gazed into the newly formed window. Following the beam of Wayne's flashlight, his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the wall. His stomach flipped as he saw a pile of combat boots with a single black heel sitting at the top.

"_Oh shit,_" he echoed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer : Nope, I still don't own anything aside from my OCs.  
**

**Warnings : **_Mentions of rape. __  
_

**Author's Note** **: **_As always, I'd like to thank everyone who read, favorited and followed this story so far. Also, huge thanks to **ytteb, victoriantealady, Maudlin Mush, Gottahavemyncis, Precious Pup, PaisleyGibbs **and **Guest - Carol ** for the reviews. I appreciate your time to leave me a note about what you think. The response I got for this story was far more then I ever thought I would. _

_As for the reaction at the end of the last chapter, I assume Tony was surprised to find the amount of evidence they did. With Wayne, remember that he's an ultra-probie and only a few months out of FLETC. For all we know, this could very well be his first murder investigation or the first time he's seen that kind of evidence.  
_

_Only a couple more chapters to go now! Should be posting the last one this time next week! Thanks for everyone who's been taking this adventure with me.  
_

_Also, I took liberties with finger print analysis and going forward, it's probably not very accurate in terms of the way federal authorities operate. So bear with me.  
_

_Well, let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:22pm - Mathews' Apartment, Silver Spring, MD -**

Camera weighing heavy around his neck, DiNozzo stopped taking pictures of the pile of shoes behind the wall to help Wayne assemble them into pairs on the floor. Nine pairs of shoes stood in front of them. Eight pairs of combat boots and one pair of "killer" black heels. As Wayne took a written inventory, Tony photographed each pair individually. Pausing for a second, he could almost imagine the eight women standing in front of them.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and watched Wayne as he attempted to reach into the small space in the wall. The hulking frame of the FBI agent folded onto itself as he inspected the cavern. "Anything else in there?" Tony called out.

"No, man. Wait, I see something else." Grunting, Bruce pushed himself into the wall and DiNozzo could hear him scraping as he reached. "Got something, but damn it. _I'm stuck_."

"This really isn't a time to joke. We need to get this stuff back to Abby," DiNozzo chastised, as he opened an evidence bag and slid the first pair of boots in.

"Not kidding, man," Wayne gasped, groaning with effort. "I really am stuck." Rolling his eyes, Tony approached the other man and wrapped his arms around the FBI agent's torso. "Ohhh, Tony...what kind of man do you think I am? Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?" Bruce joked, his laughs echoing within the wall.

"I could leave you here," Tony offered.

"Just kidding, man. Look, I'll buy _you _dinner. Just get me outta here. Mathews' trophy case is really giving me the creeps."

"Fine," DiNozzo said. "Ready, one, two, three." Both men pulled at the same time. A loud cracking noise resounded from the wall and Wayne was sent crashing to the floor. Covered in dust and cobwebs, he attempted to sweep the debris from himself and held out a black microfiber bag that was nearly a foot and a half long. Ignoring Wayne's coughing fit, Tony took the prize from the other agent's hand and felt the heavy weight inside.

Sliding the bag open, he pulled out a long, nasty looking blade. A rounded end showed where the weapon could have been fitted around the end of a rifle. Turning the blade over, he tried to forget about the times he spent following his father around the reenactments at Gettysburg. As his eyes moved to the tip, he noticed the lethal end was covered in dried blood.

"Gotcha, you bastard."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:59pm - Forensics Lab - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

Forensic scientist Abby Scuito inhaled deeply, the aroma of burnt marshmallows filling her nose. She pulled the marshmallow off her pipet tip and slammed it into a waiting graham cracker. If she was going to hold a vigil to McGee, she might as well use the flame to fix a snack while she compared fingerprints.

Number thirty-seven did not match. Sighing, she sucked down a mouthful of watered down CafPow. She closed her eyes and felt herself almost pass out from exhaustion. There were only eight more suspects to go. It shouldn't take her more than a half an hour. Then she could catch what Ziva always referred to as a bat nap. As she loaded number thirty-eight, she wondered if the Israeli really meant cat nap or if believed Abby turned into a bat at night.

_"That would be pretty cool, if I could turn into a bat while I wasn't working," _she whispered. Pausing for a second, she wondered if she had thought the words or said them aloud.

As she checked the suspect, she felt her heart race. _Finally_, _the caffeine was kicking in._ No, wait. The finger prints were close. Had she cracked the case? She ran a quick search on the current location of her suspect and let out a curse as she discovered he'd been a guest of the Metro prison system for the last two years.

Clicking through thirty-nine and forty, her stomach was churning. Of course, chocolate-free S'mores and CafPow might not be a good combination. Or maybe it was that she only had six suspects to go on their only lead. If she didn't get a match, her best lead was gone and the investigation for Timmy would slowly grow colder.

As she finished forty, Abby noticed that her hands were trembling. "I know you're in here somewhere," she challenged no one in particular.

She loaded forty-one and crossed her fingers. Looking through the finger prints, they were a match for seven points. All the whirls were in the correct spot and Abby gasped as she saw a smaller whirl on the bottom of the finger print. She reviewed the finger print on the pot bag and recognized the top half of the whirl that blended into a smudge.

"Yes!" Fists pumping into the air, she bounced on her wedges as she checked his Metro file. A mugshot of a broad shouldered, dark haired man with angry eyes popped up. _Michael Stoakes, _37. Arrested three times and did seven years for possession with intent to distribute. Drug of choice? Marijuana. _Hanrahan's dealer.  
_Her heart sank as she read the outstanding warrants from Metro for possession, assault with a deadly weapon and attempted murder. _This just had to be the guy helping Hanrahan. _

Cross-referencing his last known address, Abby checked all properties that might be in his name. She let out a gasp as she found an old cabin registered to his deceased grandfather with an address listed as Cito, PA. That happened to be only a few miles away from Fort Littleton.

As she took the coordinates from the address and checked them against her earlier satellite pictures, Abby dialed Gibbs' phone and listened to his voicemail. "Come on, Gibbs. _Answer."_ Redialing his number, she found the corresponding picture from her earlier satellite scan and gasped when she zoomed in. The cabin had two cars sitting out front, an old pick-up similar to the one registered to Stoakes and silver sedan that Abby would bet was Hanrahan's Nissan.

Abby left her lab phone ringing as she sprinted for stairs.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:06pm - Interrogation - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

"I didn't kill her," SSgt Zeke Mathews growled through clenched teeth. His jaw muscles were tight in anger and his blue eyes burned as he looked through Gibbs. Pushing his hands against the table, he rose and began to head for the door.

"I'm not finished with you yet, Marine!" Gibbs roared, as he leaped between the jarhead and freedom. Holding up a picture of Wilkowski's body, he shoved it towards the man's face. "Look at her. _You did this._"

Mathews backpedaled from the picture and fell back into his seat, eyes closed. "No. I didn't kill her."

"_She _had a name. _Leah Wilkowski_. You were her squad leader. You raped her in Iraq."

"No."

"She transferred to get away from you, but you followed her."

"No..."

"Then you hunted her down. Stabbed her and _left her to die in the woods._"

"No, I didn't kill her." Mathews' eyes dropped down and to the left. _Lying. _Taking a deliberate sip of his coffee, Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the Marine.

"What happened, Marine? Did you run into her that night at 'The Founding Fathers'? Did she say she'd turn you in for the rape, so you killed her?"

Shaking his head, Mathews looked pathetically at the hands in his lap. Guilt washed over his face as he met Gibbs' eyes. "It was hard in the desert. I had needs. _She_ was _there_, so I used her to fill those needs. It just happened, told her not to tell anyone about it. She transferred and I never heard from her again. Then she was at the pub that night. I tried to slip out before she saw me. But she followed me to my car and started screaming at me. She just wouldn't stop. I hit her. A lot, but she kept screaming. I just needed her to stop. Mariah had given me some of my family's heirlooms that day. The bayonet was laying on the backseat and I grabbed it. I tried to get her quiet, but she kept screaming. She just wouldn't be quiet. _I just needed her to shut up_. My girls...she said she'd tell my girls. I - . " He was cut off by a slamming at the door. "_What the f - ?_"

"Gibbs! Gibbs! Giiiiiibbbbbs!" Abby's strident screams resonated in the small room as the door thudded again. "Giiiiiibbbbbss!"

Both men stood and Gibbs pushed Mathews back to his chair with a point of his finger and a deathstare. Anger boiled inside of him and he'd never had the urge to cremate his forensic scientist before. Yes, most of the rest of his team had been marked for death. DiNozzo, more often then the others. But never Abby Scuito. Kicking open the door, he narrowly missed the goth as she jumped backwards, pigtails flying.

He slammed the door closed and started. "There had better - ."

Grinning triumphantly, she held what appeared to be a S'mores above her head like a trophy. "I know where he is, Gibbs. _I found McGee!_"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:17pm - Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC -**

Carrying box full of evidence bagged shoes along with the bayonet, Bruce Wayne headed out of the elevator. Behind him, Tony DiNozzo held the other agent's bag of chicken bones and trash out by two fingers. Entering the bullpen, he tossed it into the nearest trash bin. "Now I'm going to smell like the illegitimate child of Colonel Sanders and PF Chang," he complained.

"Well, at least it was tasty," Wayne grinned. "Shouldn't we take these to Abby?"

"We can get her to come up here. Might be good for her to get out of the lab for a few." Just as Tony was about to sit down, Gibbs flew to his desk with the forensic scientist hot on his heels.

"Well, speak of the devil," Wayne started. "We - ."

"Glad you're both back. Where's Ziva?" Gibbs interrupted.

"With the director." Leaning over, Abby started to look in the box on Tony's desk. Rocking on her heels, she looked like she would explode at the slightest provocation. Something told DiNozzo it wasn't due to the large amount of CafPow she'd ingested.

"Well, call her and tell her to meet us in the garage. DiNozzo. Wayne. You got five." As he spoke, Gibbs disappeared out of the bullpen and nearly sprinted to the elevator.

Knowing he missed something, Tony's eyes met Bruce's and they both shrugged simultaneously. "Abby? What's going on?"

"Oh. Oh..._OH_! We didn't tell you? Yeah, you're right. We _didn't_ tell you. I found Timmy!" Her red lips spread into a triumphant smile.

"What? When? Where? _How?_" As Abby opened her mouth to speak, DiNozzo held his hand up. Reaching into his desk, he grabbed the gear he had just started to put away and he heard Wayne doing the same thing a few desks away. He pushed the box of shoes and bayonet towards Abby. "Here's what we found in a wall in Mathews' house. Process it for me." As she started to speak again, he placed a light kiss on her cheek. "I know, Abs. We'll bring him back. Come on Batman, let's go. Gibbs doesn't believe in rest stops!"

Walking out with Wayne by his side, he hazarded a glance over his shoulder to meet the hopeful eyes of the forensic scientist. As the elevator doors opened, he felt his pulse quicken and he hoped it was just his imagination that Bruce had started humming Batman's theme song.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer : CBS still owns everything. I intend no copyright infringement. Just playing around.  
**

**Warnings : **_Minor violence. __  
_

**Author's Note** : _As always, I'd like to thank everyone who's read, favorited and alerted to this point. I'd also like to extend extra special thanks to **jmsings, Gottahavemyncis, DS2010, ytteb, PaisleyGibbs, 68luvcarter, charmed4eva112, ksfan66, victoriantealady **and_ **_shywr1ter._ **_I truly appreciate the time you guys took to leave me a review. I really liked hearing you guys thought_**.  
**

_Let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:05pm - Near Fort Littleton, Pa -**

Rocking in the greying recliner, Petty Office Joseph Hanrahan sat with one leg pulled up beneath him. He slid the chair back just far enough to avoid hitting the wall, preventing the noise that had earlier annoyed an increasing agitated Stoakes. Somewhere on the other side of the room, the crackling radio droned on about a local doctor who specialized in hypnotheraphy. At least, he thought it was. But then again, he wasn't really listening.

Instead, Hanrahan rocked and watched the other men sleep. To his right, the NCIS agent was passed out on the floor and snoring loudly. Across from him on the couch, Stoakes lay, outstretched and clutching the gun. _His gun. _Resentment bubbled inside him.

None of this was supposed to happen. Leah was supposed to still be alive and he had planned on proposing in a few weeks. They would have gotten married, raised a family and grown old together. She'd have left the Marines for him and followed him around the country as he made himself a career Navyman like his parents always wanted. For a split second, he could see the future he would never have. Blinking the tears from his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder what the purpose of wishful thinking was._ His future had died with her._..

He wondered what went through his mind when he grabbed Tim and bolted. Nothing really had passed through his head. He had just acted without thinking, consequences be damned. Driving around with a federal agent in his trunk, he'd pulled over and hysterically called Michael Stoakes. Some calming words from Stoakes and Hanrahan's assurance that he would hand his dealer his life savings was all it took for Hanrahan to end up in this little piece of heaven. A ghost of a smile haunted his lips as he realized his dad was right. _He was a colossal screw up._

Running a hand through his hair, he paused from his musings and tried to decide his next course of action.

_Make a run for it?_ There was nowhere to go in the middle of the Pennsylvania wilderness and he knew he could not leave Tim alone with Stoakes. It was his fault the agent was here so leaving him behind was not an option.

_Try to get the gun off of Stoakes?_ He wasn't sure he could extricate the gun from the larger man without either him or the NCIS agent getting killed.

_Or just let Tim go and turn himself in?_ If Stoakes were not there, he would have surrendered hours ago.

Hanrahan started rocking again and let his mind turn, oddly comforted by the two conflicting snores in the room. _Maybe it was time to start proving his dad wrong. _

Settling into the chair, he figured he would fix it all the morning. For now, it could wait. First light would come soon enough...

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**11:42pm - Somewhere on I-70, heading through Maryland -**

_"Wayne!_" The shout pulled the FBI agent out of his happy place. Sitting in the backseat of the speeding Charger, he white-knuckled the door handle and wondered how there was a worse driver on the planet than Ziva.

"Sir? Gibbs?"

"You try Fornell again." It was half question, half order. A tractor-trailer horn sounded as Gibbs weaved in front of a truck. Even on the nearly empty road, he somehow managed to piss off every single car he passed since they left the Navy Yard. Wayne had never heard so many car horns blaring in his entire life.

"Not yet, left him a voice mail when we left. He hasn't called me back..."

"Call him again!"

"On it." As Wayne pulled out his cell phone and began dialing, he wondered how Ziva and Tony managed to fall asleep as the car hurdled down the highway.

After a few short rings, the sleep-laden voice of Agent Tobias Fornell came on the line. "Wayne? What's going on?"

"We located Agent McGee, sir. Gibbs wanted me to let you know that we're on our way to Fort Littleton. I called you when we left."

"Did you call my desk again after hours, son?"

Cringing at his own stupidity, Wayne paused. "Possibly. How should we proceed, sir?"

He could hear the aggravated sigh and muttered curse over the phone. "Make contact with the local LEOs and wait for me. I'll contact SWAT. I'm leaving within the hour, but you wait until I get there. Do you hear me? _You hold._"

"Loud and clear, sir." Flipping the phone closed, he could feel Gibbs' penetrating stare in the rearview. "Fornell asked us to meet up with the LEOs and wait until he gets up here."

His reply came in the form of a growl and the car lurching forward.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Thursday, October 18, 2006 - 1:09am - Parking Lot - McConnellsburg Police Department, McConnellsburg, Pa. -**

As the car skidded to a stop in the police department's parking lot, Tony's head connected with the window and roused him from his nap. Wiping the drool from his cheek, he lazily took in the surroundings. "Here already, boss?"

Ignoring him, Gibbs climbed out of the car and slammed the driver's door closed. Ziva exited from the passenger seat, following the team leader closely. DiNozzo stretched and let out a yelp as his back cracked. Readying himself to get out, he suddenly noticed Bruce's hunched form beside him in the backseat. The FBI agent looked pale and nauseous. "Wayne, you okay?"

"Gibbs' driving. I didn't think there was anyone worse than Ziva. _Worse than Ziva, man._ Part of I-70 was closed for construction. Then he missed the detour. Then we got lost in Maryland. _Dude, we drove through a freaking field."_

Shrugging, he guessed Wayne didn't know that was normal for a Gibbs' car trip. DiNozzo unclipped his seat belt and exited the vehicle. Behind him, Wayne followed.

"You'll get used to it." Tony gave Bruce's back a hard slap that sent the FBI agent sprinting behind the Charger. From the sounds of the violent retching, he surmised Wayne likely regretted the fried chicken. With a sigh, he opted to give the other man some privacy and jogged towards the brightly lit police precinct.

When he entered the department, he was greeted with the familiar smell of stale coffee and powdered doughnuts. It reminded him of his old precinct in Baltimore.

"Whaddya mean we do nothing?" Gibbs yelled at a portly cop, who held a cup of the coffee. A few cops stood next to their superior as Ziva loomed close to her boss' shoulder. The look in her eyes was dangerous.

DiNozzo approached, flanking the left side of Gibbs. Up close, the cop was shorter then he looked from across the room and much heavier. Aged with a receding hairline, he grinned with darkened, crooked teeth and slurped his coffee. "If the FBI tells us to wait until they get here, we wait. What agency are you from again?"

Face screwed in anger, Gibbs pulled his badge out and held it to the policeman. "For the _second time, _Officer Marino, we are from NCIS. _Naval. Criminal. Investigative. Service._"

"Don't think we have an ocean in these parts. Maybe a creek or two." A few snickers echoed from the other cops. "But in all honesty, I've never heard of you all." Marino placed his cup down and DiNozzo noticed Ziva gathering herself into a ready stance, hand hovering over the concealed gun she carried in the small of her back. Following Marino's lead, the other officers too had shifted towards their weapons. "Maybe we should all sit down and wait until the FBI arrives."

Suddenly, the door opened and a glassy-eyed Wayne wandered in. Taking in the scene before him, confusion passed over his face as he looked between the police officers and Team Gibbs. "Dude, what's going on?"

Ziva chose that moment to pull her weapon and all hell broke loose.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:34am - Holding Cell - McConnellsburg Police Department, McConnellsburg, Pa -**

"Really, Zee-vah? You had to pull a _weapon _in a _police station?! What the hell were you thinking?" _DiNozzo had lost count of how many times he asked the question. If he had to admit, the ensuing chaos after Ziva flashed her gun was slightly comical. He may even have found it hilarious had they not been racing against a clock to save McGee.

"Perhaps we should ask Wayne how he did not remember to bring his ID?" She countered, looking accusingly at the FBI agent who sat on the floor. When they were relieved of their weapons and led to the holding cell at gunpoint, Ziva and Gibbs had each claimed a low-hanging bunk. Wayne had approached both beds, but a withering glare from their occupants had forced him to the floor.

"Man, _I'm sorry_. I thought I grabbed it on the way out." Wayne checked his watch. "Fornell should be here soon." Glancing nervously at Gibbs, the angry silence from the former Marine seemed to terrify Bruce.

Sitting cross-legged on the bunk next to Gibbs, DiNozzo leaned his head back against the cold cinderblock wall. He let the past few hours' events play through his mind. The way Ziva had pulled the gun from the waistband of her cargoes, sending McConnellsburg's finest scurrying for cover. Tense shouts from both sides had erupted and Gibbs finally had ordered her to stand down. It wasn't until the four had kicked their weapons away and raised their arms in surrender that the police farce left their hiding spots. Marino, crooked teeth and beer gut, showed them some Pennsylvanian hospitality by locking them in a holding cell until NCIS headquarters could confirm their existence. _In the morning. _A few officers had actually believed Wayne was an FBI agent, until he told them his name. After which, not one officer had taken Wayne seriously. Though one had a particularly good zinger about the Batmobile.

Tony couldn't wait to tell McGee the story. All they had to do was get out of jail, find him in the mountains, and stage a rescue. Nothing difficult about any of that. Nothing at all. But after that, Probie would probably find it hilarious.

A chuckling nearby brought Gibbs back to life. "Knock it off, DiNozzo," he growled, levying a smack against his senior agent's head.

"Wasn't me, boss."

"I'm a few minutes late and you go ahead and get yourself locked up, Jethro?" Fornell grinned, outside the bars of the holding cell.

Next to him, Officer Marino held a set of keys. "So you _do_ know these guys?"

"Yeah, those three," he motioned to the bunks, "are NCIS. And that one," he pointed to Wayne, sprawled on the floor. "belongs to me."

"Right, let me get you guys out of here. I apologize for any inconvenience." The loud clanking as the lock turned over signaled their freedom.

"Took ya long enough, Tobias," Gibbs said, shooting out of the cell and back into the main area.

"You're welcome, Jethro."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Author's Note 2.0 -** _I admit this chapter is lame, but no one wanted to wait for Fornell. Action to come, promise.  
_


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer : I still own nothing.  
**

**Warnings :** _Violence. Gibbs has a dirty mouth. __  
_

**Author's Note** : _I'd like to thank everyone who's read this story since the last update. As always, special thanks to the reviewers : **Trinityboobear, RJane's Vindication, Gottahavemyncis, maplewind, MsKitty2008, jmsings, **and_ _**charmed4eva112. **I always appreciate the time you guys take to let me know what you think. _

_If you haven't given the new Mumford and Sons album a listen, do it. It's absolutely breathtaking.  
_

_Hope everyone is having a good weekend.  
_

_Well, we all know that you're not here to read my author's note.  
_

_So, let's get one with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:52am - McConnellsburg Police Department, McConnellsburg, Pa -**

"So what's the plan, Tobias?" Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs asked, cup of McConnellsburg's burnt brew in hand. Taking a sip, he made a face as he noticed the "World's Best Boss" plastered on the side of the kitschy mug. Tonight, he sure as hell didn't feel like it. The guilt of leaving his youngest agent to interview the victim's boyfriend alone was threatening to creep up on him. All he needed was to find his agent alive and then the black hole could swallow him. If it happened before then, he knew an overactive conscience did McGee no good. He turned the mug so its logo faced Fornell.

"We hold until Officer Andersen of SWAT activates his team." Fornell was seated at a desk for one of the day-shift officers. Eyes heavy, his head was propped on his hand and he looked to be minutes from sleep.

"How long?"

"Couple more hours. Then we can get into position." Pulling out his cell phone, the FBI agent began scrolling through messages. "They haven't contacted me yet. Odds are we'll wait 'til sunrise."

Pressing his lips together, Gibbs glanced around the precinct and watched the other agents. DiNozzo and Wayne were attempting to flirt with two homely, young uniformed women. Even though Tony appeared to be engrossed in a story that the redhead was telling, his features were tense and Gibbs knew his agent's mind was elsewhere. At an adjacent desk, Ziva cleaned her dismantled Sig under Marino's watchful eyes.

Suddenly, that too familiar ache in his stomach started again. Placing a hand on his abdomen, he felt the acid climb up his esophagus.

"We can't wait._ We need to go now_." Across the precinct, Gibbs met Tony's eyes and his senior field agent nodded his assent.

"Protocol dictates we wait for SWAT," Fornell challenged, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "If we rush in unprepared, we can get Agent McGee killed. I don't like waiting anymore then you."

"To hell with protocol. What would we be doing if Wayne were in that cabin?" Taking a sip of what barely constituted coffee, Gibbs' head motioned towards the tall, blonde FBI agent who was animatedly retelling some adventure. For a moment, Fornell stared at his young agent with his crinkled grey eyes and huge grin. Bruce started laughing at his own joke, since no one else in the group seemed to appreciate his humor. Gibbs watched the debate pass over Fornell's face.

Finally, the FBI agent shot out of his chair so quickly it skiddered across the floor behind him. "Let's go!" All eyes in the precinct were on Fornell and he chuckled uncomfortably. "Agent Gibbs and I were just talking about going to get some coffee with our agents."

"We can make a fresh pot," Marino offered, insincerity dripping from his voice. With a motion of his hand, Gibbs commanded his agents to collect their belongings and ready to move out.

"Your coffee tastes like _shit_." Standing, Gibbs clipped his gun holster to his belt and ambled out of the precinct.

"What Agent Gibbs means," Fornell said, attempting to smooth over the typical Gibbs' PR disaster. "We're not fond of your coffee. We'll find a Dunkin Donuts until SWAT comes. If anyone hears from Officer Andersen, please have him contact me on my cell." Nearly sprinting, the FBI agent followed the others out of the building.

The unofficial team Gibbs stood in a small circle in between the NCIS Charger and Fornell's black Expedition. Under the parking lot's weak lights, Gibbs could see the determination on Ziva's face and anxiety on DiNozzo's. "Alright," Tony breathed. "So when does SWAT get here?"

Everyone looked towards Gibbs and he pointed at Fornell, who was busy rummaging through his truck's trunk. After he pulled out what appeared to be a bulletproof vest, he tossed it to Tony.

"Tonight, DiNozzo, _we are SWAT." _

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:18am - Somewhere on Rte 522 - Fulton County, Pa -**

Eyes fixed on the road, Fornell maneuvered the tight twists of the old country highway as quickly as the cumbersome SUV allowed. The absolute darkness of the night made it difficult for him to anticipate the upcoming turns in the thick woods.

Adjusting slightly in the driver's seat as he accelerated, Fornell shimmied in the flack jacket that he wore tightly velcroed to his chest. Something was bothering him and he wasn't convinced that it was the vest. Maybe his nervousness was a sympathetic extension of the fabled "Gibbs gut." Though he had to admit he wouldn't have acted if there hadn't been that hitch in Gibbs' voice when he asked about the plan. That momentary hesitation in a man who never knew fear.

Gibbs knew something that no one else did. Maybe he wasn't even aware of exactly what that was yet...

In the backseat, DiNozzo and David were taking stock of their limited arsenals and Wayne sounded like he was loading an extra clip for his sidearm. Next to him, Gibbs seemed troubled and had scarcely moved since they'd climbed in the vehicle. Fornell figured that he was still wrestling with that ominous feeling.

Even though he knew the actions to come would likely cost his badge, Tobias truly believed it was the only way to save his colleague's youngest agent. He had witnessed Gibbs' knack for entering situations at the optimum time far too often to ignore the man's request.

Glancing in the rearview, Fornell saw Wayne's darkened form messing with an indiscernible object. Pity passed through him as he could not imagine the emotions Gibbs had struggled with since McGee went missing. These were men who, as team leaders, they were supposed to protect at any cost.

If the roles were reversed, he knew that Gibbs would be driving them to a different raid.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:32am - Stoakes' Cabin - Near Cito, PA -**

_Blam. _A loud crashing noise brought Timothy McGee back to consciousness. As he pushed himself into a sitting position, a wave of nausea crashed over him. He closed his eyes and willed it to pass. _G-d, why did he feel so awful? _Hunched over, he opened his eyes and felt the sickness return thanks to his unfocused vision.

_Blam. _Another crash erupted, closer this time and McGee felt himself becoming slightly more aware. Muffled shouts sounded nearby, but still far. _Had someone said something about_ _pillows? _For some reason, it struck him as hilarious and he let out a laugh.

As the minutes passed slowly, he felt himself sober considerably. The yelling continued at sporadic intervals until the cabin fell completely silent. Feeling uneasy, McGee shifted to a better vantage point and attempted to locate the other two men within the cabin. They weren't in the small patch of the kitchen and hallway he could see. From where the shouts were sounding, Hanrahan and Stoakes were likely in the back mudroom. Whatever they were discussing, it didn't sound good...

Quick footsteps thundered in the hallway and McGee glanced up to see Michael Stoakes, rapidly closing on him. Dark eyes murderous, he clutched a large knife in his hand. Scrambling backwards, McGee slid across the floor as best he could. Raw fear ripped through him when his back collided with the wall.

A rough hand grabbed his ankles and pulled McGee to his back, his head solidly connecting with the wall. With the bindings on his ankles cut, he was hauled upright. All the jarring motions made him unsteady on his feet. "What's - ?" He slurred, mouth dry.

Suddenly, a figure bolted into the living room. For a second, McGee barely recognized the blonde Joseph Hanrahan, his features bloodied and swollen. "Stoakes," he pleaded, his voice nearly hysterical. "Michael. _We can't do this." _

"_We're _not. _I am. _I'm cleaning up your mess, just like you asked." Reaching behind himself, Stoakes dropped the knife and pulled a gun out of the waistband of his jeans. Just as McGee started to move away, the other man grabbed the agent by his shirt collar and pulled him closer. Tim could almost kick himself for not seeing the weapon tucked in the small of his back.

"I just needed somewhere to lay low for a few days. I'm _done..._this is over. She's dead, Michael. _Leah is dead and I can't fix it._" Hanrahan choked back a sob as tears ran down his face. "_We need to let him go!" _

"Joey." McGee warned, noticing Stoakes' grip on the gun tightening. Even though Hanrahan would be incarcerated for a long time, he still could have some kind of future.

"Seriously Michael, it's _over_." Hanrahan started again, just as Stoakes fired the weapon. A blood curdling scream exited the Navyman's lips and his back arched unnaturally as he fell to the floor.

Pulling against the arm holding him, McGee tried to rush across the room to check on Hanrahan. If the blood seeping into the floor was any indication, he was not doing well. The ragged rise and fall of his chest showed he was still alive, but there was no way of knowing how long.

"Come on Fed, we're going for a little ride," Stoakes growled, as he pulled a struggling McGee out of the room. On the dirty cabin floor, Joseph Hanrahan was left to die.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:47am - Somewhere in the mountains - Near Cito, PA -**

As the black Expedition pulled to a stop, DiNozzo finished velcroing the bullet proof vest over his missing partner's shirt. He had even forgot he was wearing it until he pulled the vest tight, feeling the puff of the sleeves through the armholes. Climbing out of the car, he ran his hand over the fabric and hoped this wouldn't be the last time he felt close to his junior agent.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he reached to brush it away. Instead, he gave Ziva a reassuring squeeze.

The quintet stood by the hood of the Expedition, checking and rechecking their weapons. As he took a mental inventory, Tony felt the weight of his Sig in his hand, back-up weapon in his waistband and knife in his belt. Maybe it was his own nerves, but he could swear that he saw Wayne's hands shaking as the young agent clutched his sidearm.

"What's the plan, boss?" DiNozzo asked, placing a hand on Wayne's shoulder.

"We head up the road and separate when we're a bit closer. You and Wayne will go around back and enter the building. Fornell, Ziva and I will go in from the front," Gibbs stated.

"We're going in blind," Fornell continued. "So we'll coordinate a time to enter the building. You go at that time. Not before, not after. Wayne, what's your watch say?"

A small blue glow blazed a few feet away and he checked his own watch. "Four, forty eight am, Boss," Bruce report, voice quaking. DiNozzo squeezed the young agent's shoulder hard, trying to convey that they'd be fine. The two were covering the back of the building and weren't likely to see any action unless someone tried to escape undetected. If only, he could tell the younger man to chill out.

He wished he could tell himself to chill out. In all his years as both cop and agent, he could remove himself from cases with humor because he wasn't emotionally invested. Now, it really mattered.

"Okay, Wayne, we're synchronized. We have about a quarter mile to head up the road until we hit the cabin," Fornell commanded and Tony could suddenly see how the man had climbed so far within the FBI. "DiNozzo, you and Wayne will split from us in an eighth of a mile and head through the woods to the back of the cabin. We're about two miles from the nearest neighbor, so don't get lost. No matter what you hear, no matter what you see when we split you do not turn back and you follow our protocol. The primary objective is securing Agent McGee and getting him out alive. Any questions?"

The tense silence gave Fornell his answer and Gibbs ordered. "Move out."

As the group walked up the road, DiNozzo could almost swear he heard Fornell croon "he called me_, boss," _to a very unconcerned Gibbs. Sweat soaking through his shirt, Tony felt it freezing in contact with the chilly fall air.

It took shorter then he anticipated to hit the eighth mile. "Time to split up," DiNozzo winked at Ziva. "Don't miss me too much."

She placed a hand on his cheek and looked deeply into his eyes. "It will be okay, Tony. Do not worry." Unable to articulate everything he wanted to say, he nodded half-heartedly and gave her hand a hard squeeze. The return pressure assured that she understood what he could not verbalize.

"Move at 5:02. Repeat it back to me," Fornell said, sounding dangerous.

"5:02, boss. We enter the back at 5:02," Wayne repeated, voice surprisingly confident. _Attaboy, Batman_.

"Move now," Gibbs barked, as DiNozzo and Wayne darted into the woods. Not having brought flashlights, they were fortunate that the moon was full and illuminated the forest. Both agents jogged, following a path parallel to the road.

A few minutes later, they had closed in on the cabin and it appeared some lights were burning in the early morning. Shouts could be heard coming from the interior. Sneaking a glance at Wayne, DiNozzo jerked his head towards the cabin. As they continued to move, Bruce shook his head. "We're on a schedule."

Finally, they reached a point in the woods where the back of the cabin was visible. A small light illuminated a window that appeared to be a back door. The shouts became more aggressive, but DiNozzo couldn't make out the words. Crouching under a tree to hide himself, Tony hissed. "We need to move in now."

"We can't. We're on a schedule. 5:02. We go at 5:02," Wayne moaned, almost pleadingly. Under the moon's light, DiNozzo saw the grimness in Bruce's face. "If we go before, we _will_ screw this up."

A tense sigh passed Tony's lips as he watched the cabin. Who knew what was going on in there? They had orders and they would move when they were supposed to. Any breach of their protocol and there was no telling who would end up dead.

Not even wanting to know the time, DiNozzo closed his eyes and wished it to pass. They were so close.

_They were so close._

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:58am - Stoakes' Cabin - Near Cito, PA -**

As the grip on his arm tightened, McGee pulled back again and tried to move deeper into the cabin. He knew he was only a bargaining chip for Stoakes to play, if he ran into trouble. Once he'd outlived his usefulness, he was dead. While he waited for the end, he sure as hell wasn't going anywhere without a fight.

Kicking out, his foot connected with Stoakes' knee and the man let out a low growl. "You're going to pay for that!"

A sudden epiphany simultaneously made McGee's heart sink and face break into a smile. If he were a dead man walking, he might as well cause Stoakes to leave as much physical evidence as possible. _It would make his murder easier to solve._

He kicked out again, but this time Stoakes stepped out of the way. Removing his hand from McGee's arm, he raised a fist and connected with the agent's face. Tumbling backwards, Tim's head collided with the wall and left a mark as he crashed into the floor.

Head spinning, McGee glanced up to see the barrel of Stoakes' gun in his face. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end you now."

There was nothing. No reason. No point. The team hadn't found him. What did it matter if he died here or if it was a few hours later in a different state? Looking into Stoakes' eyes, he gave an indifferent shrug. "There isn't one."

As if he wasn't expecting that response, Stoakes appeared puzzled for a few seconds. He seemed to be weighing his options. Finally, he reached down and pulled McGee to his feet so hard that something in his right shoulder popped. Biting back a hiss, the agent wondered why Stoakes had spared him for the moment as he was hustled towards the door.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:01am - Outside Stoakes' Cabin - Near Cito, PA -**

Huddled behind the silver Nissan parked near the cabin, Ziva felt the cold metal pushing through her light jacket. She found it oddly comforting.

Taking a deep breath and readying herself, she peered over the hood of the car towards the cabin's front door. In a few short seconds, the order to move in would come and she would finally be allowed to use her training for some good.

A glint of light off the front door caught her eye and she held up her hand, a silent order for attention.

"Gibbs," she whispered. "There is movement at the door."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer : I still own nothing, but season 1 - 5.  
**

**Warnings :** _Violence. Gun play. Language. __  
_

**Author's Note** **:** _I'd like to extend a huge__ to everyone who has read, favorited and alerted since my last update. I still love that so many people have taken this journey with me. As always, a huge thanks to **Avirra, ytteb, Trinityboobear, jmsings, DS2010, RJane's Vindication, charmed4eva112, diana teo, HSMSupernatural, 68luvcarter **and 2 (or 1?) **Guests **for their reviews. It means so much for me to see your thoughts on the story as it continues. _**  
**

_In case anyone skipped the warning, there is violence/disturbing imagery in this chapter.  
_

_So this is last chapter of the main story, hope everyone likes the wrap-up.  
_

_Let's get on with it.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:01am - Behind Stoakes' Cabin - Near Cito, PA -**

As he leaned against the tree, Tony DiNozzo did not realize he was holding his breath until he began to feel lightheaded. A deep inhale followed by a long exhale attempted to calm his racing heart. He had racked his brain, offering up pleas and sacrifices to whichever deity from whatever religion happened to be listening tonight. Not sure what was equivalent to the life of his partner, he settled on forgoing popcorn and volunteering somewhere. Even though he wasn't religious, he figured that it couldn't hurt to try.

Only a few feet away, the blue light of Bruce Wayne's watch continually blazed as the agent obsessively watched the time. A sudden blast of wind blew and he shivered as the cold air bit through his shirt.

"DiNozzo," Wayne whispered suddenly, distracting Tony from his thoughts. "It's go time."

"You stay near me, got it?"

"Right on."

With the hand signal from DiNozzo to move out, both agents jogged through the small backyard up to the back door. Pausing against the wall, Wayne waited for direction from Tony to open the door. Gun clutched tightly and held at eye level, the NCIS agent gave the nod.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:02am - In Front of Stoakes' Cabin - Near Cito, PA - **_  
_

"Gibbs," Fornell hissed, holding his watch wrist out. The team leader knew that meant Wayne and DiNozzo were likely clearing the back of the cabin. With the movement at the front door, they could only wait. As the trio watched tensely from behind the Nissan, the front door banged a few times before finally staying open. Against the light of the door-frame, a hulking form appeared. Gibbs let out a low exhale when he realized it was a large man pulling a struggling, smaller one towards a pick-up truck that sat several yards up the drive.

Even with the brightness of the moon, it was still too dark to visually confirm the identities of the figures. Suddenly, a loud yell broke the stillness of the chilly night air. "That is McGee," Ziva gasped, readying herself.

"Let them get closer. They'll see us coming." Gibbs ordered Ziva, as well as himself. Crouching behind the Nissan's trunk, it took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to charge the pair. A few seconds later, he heard a body collide with metal and assumed the dirtbag to be digging through his pockets for the keys. "Go now!"

Moving out, the three sprinted straight up the drive towards the pick-up. Unable to take advantage of the forest's camouflage, they had to rely on simple speed and surprise.

Stopping several feet away from the darkened figures, Gibbs leveled his gun and identified himself. "NCIS! Drop your weapon and turn around!" Ziva and Fornell flanked him, forming a semi circle that boxed the men against the car.

Watching as the figure spun around, Gibbs instantly recognized Stoakes as the man holding his youngest agent against his chest with a forearm. The moonlight glinted off the handgun pointed directly at McGee's temple. "You okay, Tim?" A half-nod was the only response.

For an instant, Gibbs felt time freeze as his eyes met McGee's terrified ones. At the look on his junior agent's face, the team leader felt his grip on his weapon falter. Suddenly, Stoakes pulled McGee closer to his chest and press the gun deeper into his hostage's head. Wincing, Tim closed his eyes and pulled in a shaky breath. Gibbs felt his heart skip a beat before rage burned inside him like hellfire. _As time spend up again, h__e couldn't find the words - . _

"Drop the weapon, Stoakes," Fornell warned. "No one has to get hurt here."

Suddenly, a gunshot cracked from Ziva to Gibbs' left and his eyes reflexively closed. All he could smell was the burn of gunpowder, followed by the sound of two distinct bodies hitting the ground. Dropping his gun, he scrambled towards the spot where his agent had been. Heart in his throat, he felt time slow again and it took an eternity to reach McGee.

In the darkness, he heard Ziva kick the gun from Stoakes' hand. Not that it mattered, the neat bullethole by his left eye indicated he wouldn't be holding anything anytime soon. Kneeling next to McGee, he placed his fingers on the agent's neck. _Don't you dare, Tim._ A strong, steady pulse comforted him and he let out a sigh of relief. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cuff key and unlocked the handcuffs on the younger man's wrists. As he placed a hand on McGee's shoulder, he tightened his grip to reassure the unconscious agent that they had come.

Two sets of heavy footsteps came crashing up the drive in a sprint. Reaching for his holster, Gibbs forgot that he had dropped his gun several feet away. Instead, Ziva and Fornell stepped between the team leader and an unconscious McGee, raising their weapons.

"Boss! We heard shots! Is McGee - ?" DiNozzo stopped himself, unable to say the word as he slid to a halt. With Tony's eyes fixed on the junior agent, Gibbs swore he DiNozzo's breath hitch.

"Whoa, dude! Don't shoot us!" Wayne exclaimed, finally noticing the guns pointed at them. As she holstered her weapon, Ziva rolled her eyes and knelt next to McGee, checking his face in the dark.

"He passed out, but should be fine. Find anything in the house?" Gibbs realized he had not taken his hand off the younger man's shoulder, scarcely believing they'd actually found him. Part of him almost feared that if he let go, McGee might vanish again.

Letting out a sigh of relief, DiNozzo held a hand to his face and smiled tightly. "Thank G-d. We found Joseph Hanrahan and if we don't get an ambulance soon, he's not going to be..."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:28am - Fulton County Medical Center, McConnellsburg, Pa. -**

Hands clasped together, Tony sat back in the uncomfortable waiting room chair before leaning forward again. With his knees bouncing at alternating rhythms, he couldn't sit still. Finally, he gave up on the chair and stood, pacing around the small, deserted room. Outside, the first light was breaking through the trees at the far end of the parking lot. Pausing for a split second in front of a window, he took in the pink blending into the dull blue of the sky.

"Tony," Ziva called from across the room. "Perhaps you should come and sit for a minute. A cup of tea would make you feel better." Legs pulled up beneath her, she looked surprisingly comfortable as she blew on a paper cup. As she offered it to Tony, he waved it away and resumed pacing around the central set of chairs.

When he rounded the opposite side of the room, Bruce Wayne hopped up and started to walk with him. "Dude, don't you think you should sit for a few minutes? McGee's okay, we don't even know if there's anything to be worried about yet."

"_They haven't said anything yet. _No news is bad news. Wouldn't you be worried if it were Sacks in there?" Wayne's wry, unapologetic smile gave him the answer he was expecting and he laughed. "Well, I actually _like_ McGee..."

"I will remember to let him know!" Ziva said, appearing from behind Wayne's shoulder and he let out a surprised yell.

Ignoring her, DiNozzo changed the subject. "Where are Gibbs and Fornell anyway?"

"They're both on the phone. Looks like we're going to be in hot water since we blew off SWAT and 'went rogue,' " Bruce said, using air quotes. "Totally worth it though. Could you imagine if we waited?"

Not letting his mind even wander there, Tony pressed his lips together and shook his head. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a tall, slender brunette appeared from behind the doors to the ED. By her green scrubs and white coat, the senior agent assumed her to the attending physician. "Mr. DiNozzo?" she called, sounding tired.

Almost immediately, Tony crossed the waiting room and held out his badge. "Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, NCIS. How is Special Agent McGee?" Over his shoulder, he could feel Ziva and Wayne watching intently.

"I'm Dr. Maeve Clinton, attending physician in the Emergency Department. Agent McGee isn't in bad shape all things considered. When he came in, he was severely dehydrated and we're giving him fluids. He's covered in multiple lacerations and contusions. We also found a ligament tear in his right shoulder which should clear up with rest. Overall, nothing life threatening. Though during his captivity, he was given some sort of sedative. I've taken blood samples and run multiple tests. We can't identify it. I need you to tell me how to proceed." As they talked, DiNozzo felt Ziva and Wayne approach him and linger by his side.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, knowing he sounded stupid. At this point, he was so relieved that he didn't care.

"Well, we can attempt reversal agents of known sedatives and hope it wakens him. There is a chance that some of those could worsen his condition. The other option would be to continue testing and allow his body to metabolize the chemicals itself. What should I do?"

"Go get Gibbs," Tony ordered and he felt Ziva disappear from his side. "I think we should wait until our boss comes over. He makes the decisions."

"I don't think you understand, Agent DiNozzo." Clinton offered a polite smile. "You're listed as one of Agent McGee's emergency contacts on the report we had faxed in from NCIS. Since you're _here_, only you make that call. I need an answer now."

Sighing, Tony suddenly wished the younger agent hadn't felt the need list him as his contact._ A little head's up would have been nice, Probie..._

"Let's wait and see if he gets better. You'll keep testing in the meantime, right?" Tony asked as Clinton nodded. "Thank you, doctor."

As she turned to head back between the double doors, Wayne spoke up and his booming voice made Tony jump. "Uhhh...excuse me, doctor? How's Joseph Hanrahan doing?" She raised an eyebrow and he showed Fornell's badge, covering the picture as his boss told him to. "Bruce Wayne, FBI. He's in our custody."

"Not good," she said grimly. "He's in surgery with a lacerated liver and internal injuries. They're trying to stabilize him. As soon as he's stable enough for transport, he's going to another hospital where they can handle him better." Without another word, she turned and walked back into the Emergency Department.

"Looks like that one's going to be all me," Wayne grinned, pointing to himself.

"With Fornell," Tony corrected.

"Yeah though, speaking of, I should probably go find him and give him a rundown. This might be it, man. Look, Tony, I'm glad we found your partner. Give me a call when you get back to DC?" Wayne smiled awkwardly as he reached out his hand to shake Tony's. Taking it, DiNozzo pulled him into a 'manly hug.'

"Thanks for your help. I'll call you when we get settled." Waving as the FBI agent walked away, he suddenly yelled out. "Hope you get a partner you actually like some day."

"Me too, Robin!" Wayne shouted back, as he headed out the front doors of emergency room.

Standing quietly for a few second, DiNozzo crossed his arms and allowed himself to relax a bit. _Thank G-d, Tim was okay..._

Out of nowhere, the too familiar nervous tension filled Tony and he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. It could only mean one thing.

Before he could turn around, Gibbs asked, "So Boy Wonder, how's McGee?"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Saturday, October 20, 2006 - 10.07am - Fulton County Medical Center, McConnellsburg, Pa - **

Somewhere between unconsciousness and the waking world, Timothy McGee felt like he was floating. Somehow he felt as though he had been cocooned in a little piece of heaven, maybe that would explain the brightness that he could see behind his eyelids. As the inner peace passed through him, he felt himself becoming more concrete. _More real. _

As he continued to wake, he felt a heavy pressure on his left shoulder that was progressively increasing. For some reason, he smelled strawberries and he wasn't sure if it was the drugs. Or the little huffing noise that sounded from his shoulder and he felt a smile pass over his face. _He'd dreamed of this day..._

"Abby," he moaned hoarsely, rocking and trying to get her to wake. Opening his eyes, something seemed strange. As he took stock of the room, there were white walls, an IV needle buried in his right arm, and a machine beeping his sinus rhythm behind the IV pole. Sniffing slightly, he could catch the faint smell of disinfectant under the scent of strawberries. "Abby?"

Yawning as she woke up, she grinned broadly and suddenly exploded. "TIMMY! McGee! I'm so glad you're okay! We thought we'd never see you again! You're alive! I'm so happy!" She hugged him tightly and he winced at the tightness in his right shoulder. "You disappeared and we were all so scared! But I found you! You - !"

He cupped her face with his hands and winced again at the pain in his shoulder before he let his right arm fall limply on his chest. Taking in her tear stains and smeared make-up, he rubbed a thumb along her cheek. Gently kissing her on the forehead, he smiled. "Thanks, Abs. I never thought I'd see you again. I'm glad you're here." He looked forlornly around the room, expecting to see at least one other person from the team.

"You okay, Timmy?" Abby started, pulling her wild hair into pigtails.

"Yeah, just kinda thought my teammates might be here too, you know?"

"Tony and Gibbs just went to get coffee. You've been out for over two days. They probably figured they could skip out for a few minutes. But Tony has been sleeping here since you were brought in. They tried to kick him out a few times, but he wouldn't leave." She motioned to two chairs pulled together in a makeshift bed, covered in blankets. "You don't remember that night, do you?"

"Not really. It's all kinda hazy," he offered, meekly. Looking down, he was shocked to see how many bruises and cuts covered his hands and arms. Not to mention the red marks wrapping around his wrists from the handcuffs. Unconsciously, he shuddered.

Abby's features darkened and she crossed her arms. "They gave you a lot of some sedative to knock you out, McGee. The hospital was never able to ID it, but don't worry because they gave me a blood sample. As soon as I get back to my lab, I'll run it so we know what it was. But _anyway_, the team got you out that night you were rescued. They were supposed to wait for SWAT. Since they didn't, Gibbs and Tony are on administrative leave and Ziva got sent back to Israel. _They're being investigated for misconduct_."

The room was silent as McGee tried to find words. His team had potentially lost their jobs to save his life. How could he ever find words to express how he felt about that?

When he started to say something, the room's door opened and Gibbs strode in, followed closely by Tony. Each man held a cup of coffee. Instantly, DiNozzo's tense features softened and he grinned broadly at Tim. "Hey, hey, Probie! Nice of you to finally join us! How were those dreams?" Winking at his bed-bound friend, he sipped his drink.

"Not bad, Tony! You weren't in them!" He laughed, feeling peace in the normalcy. Leaning on the edge of the bed, Tony sat next to Abby and placed a hand on McGee's shoulder. No words needed and Tim nodded. "Thanks, Tony."

Pulling one of the chairs over, Gibbs sat down and took a swig of his coffee. "I need a minute with Tim."

Abby looked at Gibbs and smiled brightly, not understanding his request for privacy. Catching on, DiNozzo stood and grabbed the goth's arm. "Com'on Abs, I think I saw a CafPow vending machine around here somewhere," he claimed, hustling her towards the door.

"CafPow?" she shrieked from the hallway.

Pulling the blanket around his arms, McGee felt uneasy at the softness of Gibbs' eyes. He looked almost concerned and caring. Maybe Tony was right..._Gibbs wasn't really Gibbs if he was nice._"You okay, Tim?" The team leader offered as his agent nodded.

"What happened in there? Joseph Hanrahan was shot and he's in a coma."

Pressing his lips together and feeling the cut in his lower lip for the first time, McGee debated for several minutes. He touched his left hand to his face and felt the swelling around his eye. "I left with Hanrahan because he thought he knew who Leah Wilkowski's killer was. We met up with Stoakes later at the cabin because he had information. He overpowered us and took us both hostage."

Averting Gibbs' eyes, McGee looked towards the window across the room. "Then why was your gun at his house, Tim?"

"Dropped it while I was canvasing. I guess I forgot about it."

As he leaned back in the chair, Gibbs ran his hand down his face and sighed. "Are you sure that's the way it happened?"

"It's the way that it'll appear in my report, boss." McGee met his team leader's concerned, blue eyes. Even though Gibbs hadn't uttered a word, Tim felt compelled to tell him everything. "Don't you think Hanrahan lost enough in this life, boss? His parents are dead. His girlfriend was murdered. One split second mistake doesn't mean he deserves to lose his future too."

Swallowing hard, McGee silently squared off with his boss. He felt the man's eyes studying him and with a sip of coffee, Gibbs was the first to blink. "You're a good agent, Tim. Rest up. We'll need you back at work soon."

"Thanks, boss," McGee said quietly, dropping his eyes to the woven blanket that covered his arms.

"Listen, Tim. About what happened," Gibbs started, inspecting the lid of his coffee cup. McGee's face shot up, knowing where the conversation was heading and unsure how to handle it. "It shouldn't have happened. Look, Tim, I'm - . "

"Boss," McGee interrupted, desperate to change the subject. "It's okay. I'm looking forward to getting back to work. Though when I said I needed a vacation, I wasn't quite expecting this." Laughing, he gestured to the hospital room and relaxed back into the bed.

Rising from his chair, Gibbs nodded and headed over to the window. As he looked out the glass, he took in the view of the parking lot, trees and mountains of central Pennsylvania. He couldn't believe that _his _split second decision had almost cost another man his life and launched an investigation into his team. The misconduct charge and its suspension he'd take on himself. He just needed to figure out a way to clear DiNozzo and reinstate Ziva.

Turning back to his agent, he watched the younger man sleep in the hospital bed. Thankful that McGee had survived, Gibbs approached the bed and grasped the rail. He spoke to himself, voice barely a whisper. _"I'm sorry, Tim." _

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**12:01pm - Fulton County Medical Center, McConnellsburg, Pa - **

With his junior agent sleeping under the watchful eye of the forensic scientist, Gibbs stood from his post and let out a stretch. Taking a long swig of his noxious hospital coffee, he headed out of the room and into the hallway. Abby's eyes raised to follow him, but he held a finger to his lips to silence her.

As he entered the hallway to stretch his legs, he heard DiNozzo following. The senior agent fell in step with him. "Did he say what happened when he was in the cabin?"

With a sigh, the team leader continued down the hall past patient rooms. "Says he was helping Hanrahan and Stoakes took them hostage. Seems to think Hanrahan shouldn't be punished."

"Wow." Tony froze and ran a hand over his face. "You going to help him tell us the truth?"

Stopping, Gibbs turned and looked at his senior agent. For several seconds, the team leader debated about what to do given his junior agent's reluctance for the truth and his senior's desire for justice. Last he'd heard from Fornell, Hanrahan was still touch and go at the regional hospital's ICU. The doctors had told Fornell that if the Navyman didn't wake from his coma shortly, then it was likely he never would. Survival with his massive internal injuries did not seem probable.

Shrugging, Gibbs took a swig of coffee. "Why? Not like Hanrahan's going to live anyway."

Flabbergasted, DiNozzo opened his mouth to speak and stopped short, being out of words for once. He gave the team leader a silent nod, knowing the discussion was final and retreated down the hallway to the hospital room.

As Gibbs watched Tony walk away, he leaned against the wall, feeling the rough plaster touch the back of his head.

Taking another sip of his coffee, the team leader mulled over his options about what do with McGee's unwritten report. If Hanrahan didn't live, what did it matter if his junior agent's report stated the petty officer hadn't done anything wrong? He'd support whatever Tim needed to move through his ordeal. Though if Hanrahan were unlucky enough to survive, Gibbs knew what McGee reported didn't matter then either. Depositing the cup of rancid brew into a trash can, the team leader resolved that he would take care of the situation himself should the Navyman live.

_Justice wasn't determined by reports, it was decided by actions._

Pulling out his phone, he headed out of the hospital to find service so he could call Fornell. It seemed like a good time to check on Hanrahan.

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Author's Note 2.0 :** _Well, that wraps up the main story. Epilogue will be up tomorrow. ____  
_


	21. Epilogue

**Disclaimer : CBS still owns everything. I intend no copyright infringement. Just playing around.  
**

**Author's Note** : _Since the last update, I'd like to thank everyone who's read, favorited and followed this story. I'd also like to thank **Trinityboobear, DS2010, ytteb, Gottahavemyncis, Precious Pup, jmsings, victoriantealady, star7k **and **HSMSupernatural **for the reviews. I appreciate the time that you've taken to let me know what you think._

_So I'm a day late on the epilogue. Thought I was done with it, but I had a tad bit more editing to do. It's also much, much longer than intended. _

_As for McGee's report about Hanrahan, I wasn't sure about that reaction but when I wrote it, it felt right for the character and the ordeal. So hopefully, no one found it too off-base.  
_

_Well, last chapter. Let's get on with it...  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Monday, October 23, 2006 - 11:08am** -** Fulton County Medical Center, McConnellsburg, Pa. -**

"Are you almost done yet?" Special Agent Timothy McGee whined as he sat in a chair in his hospital room. Behind him, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo busied himself with styling the younger man's hair with some sort of product that felt like shellac and smelled like flowers.

"Almost, Probster. Quick your belly-achin'. I'll get you home soon."

It had been nearly an hour since the floor physician in the small hospital officially discharged McGee. Since then, a cleaning crew had stopped by four times in trying to turn the room over only to find DiNozzo readying the junior agent for the car ride back to Washington.

McGee should have known there would be a problem when he asked Tony to pick up some clothes for the ride back to DC. Expecting jeans and a T-shirt, he was gobsmacked when his senior agent returned with a new, sharp black suit. Despite pleading with DiNozzo to return it, his senior agent had shaken his head and asked if Tim would rather wear the stiff scrubs that the hospital provided. Grumbling, the junior agent knew he was stuck with the suit. He only hoped that he'd have enough in his bank account to repay Tony.

Though now, he hated to admit that DiNozzo might have been right. He felt put together, almost comfortable in the new black wool outfit that encased his body. The crispness of the light green shirt contrasting with the dark green tie gave him a punch of confidence. Hard to believe, he'd just spent a week split between a dirty cabin and hospital bed.

With a clap of his hands, DiNozzo signaled that he was finished. Standing, McGee checked himself out in the mirror and took everything in. The neatly styled hair and suit almost detracted from his healing black eye, myriad of cuts and the sling his right arm was nestled in. _Almost. _As he smiled, it pulled the cut on his lower lip tight.

"When you look good, you feel good," Tony exclaimed in a strange accent and Tim raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Probie! It's Fernando Lamas from Saturday Night Live. I know it's TV, but come on!" Grinning apologetically, McGee simply shrugged.

As he looked back in the mirror, McGee suddenly felt nervous. The clothes were too nice and there was no way he could afford them. Maybe he'd be better off in the hospital scrubs anyway. "Tony, I can't afford these. Maybe we should take them back."

"Don't worry about it, Probie."

"No, really," McGee awkwardly started trying to pull off the jacket. "I can't afford this."

"Remember that extra shirt you keep at the office?" McGee nodded. "Well, you don't have one anymore. Call it even." As he opened his mouth to protest again, DiNozzo raised a hand to signal the end of the discussion. "_We'll call it even, Tim_."

"Thanks. Maybe we should go?"

"Sounds good, McGoo." As DiNozzo gathered his and McGee's belongings, Tim stood in the doorway and held his small bag with discharge instructions and prescriptions.

When they moved into the hallway, the pair found Gibbs leaning against the far wall. "Took you two long enough." Glancing at his agents, the team leader did a wide-eyed double take at his youngest one and stared daggers at his senior. Tony let out a laugh when Gibbs pointed at Tim. "Don't get used to it, McGee."

"So we're going with you, boss?" DiNozzo asked.

Gibbs shook his head. "I'm heading back with Abby. She's already in the car. Something about needing to get back to the lab so she can run a blood sample." Rolling his eyes, he passed the keys to his senior agent. "This is gonna be fun. DiNozzo, you stay with McGee until he's okay to be on his own."

"Got it, boss.

"Glad to have you back, Tim." Gibbs nodded before heading down the hallway.

"Come on, McFancyPants." DiNozzo gave Tim a hard slap on his back. "Let's go home."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**1:35pm - Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, Va. -**

As he pulled the Charger into the austere cemetery, DiNozzo couldn't help but feel gratuity towards the hundreds of men and women who laid down their lives to protect their country. Taking in the uniform white headstones, he glanced nearly a hundred yards away at a small, ongoing burial ceremony.

In the passenger seat, his partner was dozing, comfortably propped up against the window. "Wake up, McGee. We're here." He gave the younger man a shake.

Tim emitted a small yelp and sat up, blinking owlishly. Looking around, he appeared bewildered. "Where are we, Tony?"

"Arlington National Cemetery," DiNozzo stated, nonchalantly.

"Tony? Why are we here? Can't we just go home?" McGee moaned, voice dangerously near a whine. "I want to go home."

Pointing at the ceremony down the grave site, Tony asked. "Do you remember when we interviewed Leah Wilkowski's roommate?" Screwing his face in anger, the junior agent nodded. "You gave her your word that we'd arrest the man who killed her. Well, we did. So I thought you'd like to tell her in person."

"Come on Tony. I'll call her tomorrow. Can't I just go home today?"

DiNozzo frowned and looked out the driver's side window. "Tim," he said, low and serious. "I made the same promise you did once. When I was a uniform in Peoria, I promised Officer Martin's wife that I'd find his killer. To this day, the case is still open and his children don't know who murdered their father. You have a chance that I didn't." Glancing at McGee, their eyes met before Tony averted his gaze. A quiet sigh from the passenger let him know that there was no more protesting. "It also doesn't hurt that the roommate's pretty cute!"

"Look, I'll just go tell her. Then we can go?"

As McGee started to climb out of the car, DiNozzo grabbed his arm. Still feeling oddly sage-like, he offered his junior agent one more piece of advice. "Let whatever happens happen. Don't hold out for someone who might not be waiting like you are. I'll be here when you're ready to go."

Releasing his grip, he noticed the heartbreaking look on his junior agent's face. McGee nodded his agreement to DiNozzo and climbed out of the car.

As he watched the younger man walk down the cemetary, he couldn't help but feel proud of the younger man. Picking up a woman at a funeral? That was in the advanced section of the "DiNozzo Guide on How to Deal with Women." _Hell yeah__, Probie._

_____-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**1:47pm - Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, Va. -**

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, McGee paused by a tombstone and fixed his tie as best he could one-handed. Reaching into his pocket, he removed his badge and clipped it to the breast pocket. He smoothed his suit jacket and watched the small crowd at the funeral several yards away. Surprisingly, the turn out was lower than he would have expected. A handful of people and a Marine guard were present. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw DiNozzo in the car who motioned him forward his hands.

Closing his eyes and turning his head skyward, McGee let out an exasperated sigh before approaching the funeral again. _He'd kick Tony's ass later. _

When he got to the edge of the burial, a bugle man began to play Taps and he bowed his head like everyone else. As it ended and the group began to disperse, he saw an older couple who resembled the victim and assumed them to be her parents. They sat in folding chairs, clasping each other tightly, and McGee felt a lump rise in his own throat.

"I didn't expect to see you here," a female voice said behind him.

Turning around, he saw Emma Watson, red-eyed and smiling slightly. Her dark brown, pixie-cut hair and black shift dress billowed as a sudden blast of wind blew through the cemetery. Standing tall, McGee pulled out his ID and flipped it open. "Special Agent Timothy McGee. I came to inform you that we've arrested the man responsible for Leah's murder. He confessed and is awaiting sentencing."

As tears began to run down her face, she grinned broadly. "Thank you. Thank you." She let out a sob-laden hiccup. "I saw what happened to you on the news. I'm so sorry." Hiccuping again, she rubbed a tear from her face. "I never thought you'd be able to - . I never thought you'd come tell me in person. Thank you for finding who killed Leah."

Extending his hand to put on her shoulder, she misinterpreted the signal and wrapped her arms around his chest. Deciding not to correct her, he managed a one armed hug as she sobbed into his shoulder.

As McGee rubbed Emma's back, he felt something burn like fire in the pit of his stomach. She pulled back, obviously feeling something too, and her brown eyes met his green ones. Her tears stopped and she smiled at him. Their lips met and as they kissed, Tim knew this was the start of something real.

_____-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

In the Charger, not too far away, Tony DiNozzo pumped his fist and cheered as his junior agent pulled Emma Watson in for another kiss.

"Way to go, Probie," he grinned, relaxing back in the seat. "Way to go."

_____-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Monday, November 20, 2012 -8:51am - Outside NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC - **

Shifting the weight of her backpack from her right shoulder to her left, Mossad Liaison Ziva David stood rooted to the concrete in front of the NCIS building. For nearly a half an hour, she'd been unable to make the last steps to return to work. As she stared at the glass doors, that night and the following month continued to replay on a loop through her head.

From his perch, security officer Barney Walker waved to her and motioned for her to approach, likely hopeful to engage in their usual scuttlebutt. Ignoring him, Ziva closed her eyes and let out a loud exhalation, its dying puff visible in the frigid air.

This was the first time she'd returned to NCIS since Abby had called to say McGee had been found. The flurry of events culminating in Stoakes' death by her hand was still burned in her mind. She'd barely had enough time to find out McGee had survived with only minor injuries before Director Shepard notified her that the team was being internally charged with misconduct. Pending the investigation, she'd been ordered back to Tel Aviv. _Back to Mossad. _

Revisiting the early days after the incident, she thought about her time in Israel. Opting not to return to active Mossad missions, she'd spent a few days in Israel visiting with friends before boarding a plane to travel to Italy. She'd rationalized that if she were suspended then she'd use the time for a vacation she never had.

While abroad, she had managed to keep in touch with part of the team through e-mail. Taking in another deep breath of cold air, she remembered the mornings when she'd curl up with her laptop and a cup of tea to catch up on their most recent progress. Abby's e-mails arrived nearly every day and their stream of consciousness content included updates on music, CafPow, her instruments, and most importantly, the team.

According to Abby, she'd only seen Gibbs once since they left the hospital. On the day of the formal hearing, the forensic scientist stated that he'd given a closed door testimony to the director and stopped by to give Abby a hug before vanishing. It wasn't until later that Abby found out he'd taken on a three-month suspension for ignoring a direct order.

Almost immediately after the hearing, Tony had returned to NCIS headquarters as acting team leader with no team. From what Abby had said, he'd haunted the halls and the bullpen, sifting through cold case files. During his first few days back, DiNozzo had issued FBI agent Bruce Wayne a visitor's pass and allowed him to visit at his leisure. While Wayne served his own suspension, he and DiNozzo had bonded during their first week off with tending to a then reclusive McGee, touring DC and visiting most of the neighborhood watering holes. When Wayne and Fornell's two week suspension was done, the FBI agent had returned to the his building. From Abby's ramblings, it still sounded like he spent a good amount of time with Tony. Though as Abby's e-mails progressed, Wayne was mentioned with increasing frequency. Ziva had almost wondered if the forensic scientist was becoming enamored with the agent.

From Abby's e-mails, it took another week after Tony's return for McGee to be cleared for desk duty. Relieved of his weapon and confined to a desk, the junior agent's reactivation to field status was pending the next round of psychiatric evaluations. In the lengthier and less frequent e-mails she received from McGee, he'd indicated that he was coping with the situation well and was anxious to return to the field as soon as possible. From Abby's perspective, Tim had taken the aftermath harder than he let on. McGee's e-mails became more frequent and less detached after Hanrahan passed away, a few days after he returned to duty. With Hanrahan's death, Abby had said that McGee seemed less tormented, but he was still working through everything. Knowing he was undergoing counseling, Ziva had decided not to pry.

Somewhere in between Tony and McGee's return, NCIS had tracked Ziva down to Turin. A personal phone call from the director had implored her to return to her liaison status at once. Since she'd already planned for a month's respite, she decided to return on her own terms in late November. Even though she'd wanted to return quickly, she knew the break was necessary.

On the night of McGee's rescue, she'd broken cardinal rule of her years of military training. When she'd seen the junior agent held by Stoakes, she had felt her heart stop. From her years in Mossad rescue missions, she had _known _how the stories ended. Dead hostages and captors in custody. That night, a split second, visceral reaction overruled her training and resulted in Stoakes' death. _For the first time in years of training, her emotions had controlled her. _

"Are you coming in today, Miss David?" A voice with a thick Southern draw pulled her out of her thoughts, returning her to the present. "Mighty cold out here."

Opening her eyes, she looked into the friendly dark eyes of the security guard standing in front of her and smiled. "Yes." It was comforting to see the aging guard had made his way into the cold to check on her.

Motioning for her to follow, Walker headed back into the building and she trailed him closely. As she passed through the door, she let out a quiet sigh and he settled into his seat. "Nice to see you back, Miss - ." Her wry smile indicated his mistake. "Ziva. How was your 'vacation'?"

"Very nice," she said, both knowing what the word meant. After checking her in, he waved her to the elevator and she hit the call button.

As she waited, she shifted her backpack to her other shoulder and wondered why she felt nervous returning to her team. When the elevator arrived, she entered and took a nervous inhalation as the doors closed. Riding the elevator to her floor, she thought briefly of her time in Europe. That tiny café in Turin. The runs through the vineyards in Tuscany. Her nights walking through the streets of Rome just to see the city alight. When the doors dinged open, she took in a ragged breath and pushed herself to walk into the bullpen.

When she headed in, her male counterparts were present. McGee, right arm still in a sling, was seated at his desk and typing awkwardly one handed. Lounging at his own desk with his legs propped up, DiNozzo read a case file and scarfed a doughnut. Heading to her space, Ziva dropped her backpack to the floor and both men suddenly looked up. "_Ziva!_" They called out in unison.

Smiling, she placed her hands on her hips and watched McGee jump up. "When did you get back?" DiNozzo asked, swinging his legs from his desk and leaning forward on its surface.

"Last night," she grinned. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched McGee open the top drawer of his desk and approach her.

"How was the _trip_?" Tony grinned, ignoring McGee's motions.

"Enjoyable. It was the first time I have ever been able to visit Italy for pleasure," she explained, running a hand over her ponytail.

Nodding, DiNozzo dropped his eyes to his case file and allowed the other agents some privacy. With a tight smile, Tim McGee stood in front of Ziva and clutched a small gift poorly wrapped in what appeared to be Christmas paper. "Ziva," he started, voice trailing off. With a shaky inhalation, he started again. "Ziva, I -, I -, I -, I know it's not much and I can never repay you, but - ."

Holding up a hand to silence him, she shook her head and placed her hand on his good shoulder. As she squeezed his arm, their eyes met. "It is my job, Tim. I am only glad that you are okay." He extended the box to her and she shook her head again. With a nod, he placed on her desk and retreated to his own.

Gesturing with her head towards Gibbs' desk, she raised her eyebrows and McGee shook his head, sadly. "We haven't heard from him. The director says he'll be back in January."

She frowned and glanced at Tony. Features tight and jaw set, he flipped his case file closed. As he looked up, his face melted into a bright smile. "So now that you're back, where are we going to dinner tonight to celebrate?"

With a shrug, she smiled back at him and glanced to McGee. "I do not know," she said, flatly.

"Do you guys mind if we go out tomorrow night?" The junior agent asked, ears turning red. "Emma and I have tickets to an art gallery opening."

"Oh, come on, McWhipped! You never get to go out anymore. Hermoine's got you wrapped around her little finger," Tony jokingly groused, pointing his pinky at the junior agent. Even though the senior field agent smiled brightly at the junior agent, McGee's face turned several shades of crimson.

"Weren't you supposed to be going out tonight with Wayne anyway?" McGee countered, running a hand over his face.

"Yeah, but he bailed on me. He's going to that concert with Abby," the senior agent explained, not seeing the shock pass over McGee's face. "_That kid was a great wingman_." Laughing at the wistful look on Tony's face, Ziva settled into her desk chair and felt surprised that no one had changed the setting. "Alright, alright. So _we'll all_ go out tomorrow night," Tony continued, glancing at McGee, "but where are _we_," the senior agent motioned to Ziva and himself, "going tonight?"

Leaning forward on her desk, the Israeli was caught off guard by a feeling that she'd never experienced before. It bubbled inside her and filled her with a warmth that shined on her face. For a second, the world stopped and she took in the welcoming, smiling faces of her teammates.

_For the first time in her life, she was home. _

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

_**Final Author's Note : **First, I know that there is **no **chance that Wilkowski would be buried at Arlington. The scene with McGee and Emma originally took place at a different character's funeral and I had to change the person when the story turned out differently than I planned. _

_Second, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who made the journey with me to the end of the story. I hope that you've enjoyed the adventure as much as I have. I appreciate each and every one of you who has taken the time to read, favorite, alert and review. Going forward, I'd also like to thank anyone else in advance who's doing the same. __  
_

_At the moment, I have no plans to continue this arc/universe and no plans to reincarnate Bruce Wayne in another story. But I won't say never because who knows if the inspiration will hit me. If I do, it'll be quite some time.  
_

_Currently, I'm halfway through two stories. One shorter, one longer. I'm hoping to be finished with one or both before the new year. But again, it might be a while.  
_


End file.
